Yesterday in my blog about my trip to the emergency room, I shared about how I used to tough out a lot of situations.  One of the memories that stands out in my mind is when I ran the New York Marathon in 1986.  I had trained for it in 1985 and then had to drop out because I started to have a knee issue.

My training for the NY marathon was to run a basic amount – say 2 miles – on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, then double that for 4 miles on Tuesday and Thursday and triple it on Saturday, then rest on Sunday.  The next week my basic Monday, Wednesday and Friday run would be 3 miles.  Classic.

I’d work up to running 22 miles on a Saturday.  So, in 1985 I had gotten up to doing 20 milers in Central Park or if I was visiting my grandparents it was out along the cornfields of Ohio.  I was putting a lot of miles in each week.  It was an effort, but I loved running.

I’d get up really early on a Saturday to beat the summer heat and get the run done by 9am.  I was a slow runner so it would mean running for 3 or more hours.  I’d come home covered in sweat, salt, sometimes some blood where a sock or a bra or something rubbed against my skin.  Typical stuff.

When I got back home, I’d go right to the fridge to get a beer, crack it open and walk to the bathroom to run the bath.  After my bath, a long nap.  Then, going out dancing later that night.

After dropping out of the NY Marathon in 1985 because of my knee trouble, I was intent on finishing in 1986.  Just about a month before the marathon I started to develop shin splints.  I stopped running and started training hours a day on a stationary bike at the gym.  I needed to keep in shape for that last month.  I desperately wanted to be able to safely run alongside my Dad who was running with me.  He had run quite a few marathons and I’d cheered him on many times.  Now, we were running together and I was excited for that.

That November day, in 1986, I did well until mile 16 when my diaphragm began to cramp.  It was so painful, but I kept going.  My quads began to cramp.  That was also very painful, but I kept going with my Dad beside me, encouraging me.

Around mile 24, as we were running down Central Park’s east side, my Dad said, “it’s only 2 miles.  Think how many times you’ve run 2 miles.  You can do this.  You’re tough.”

I said, “that’s the whole problem, Dad:  I’m tough.”

I knew then, although I don’t know if I could have articulated it, that it was my ego that was making me do this.  I wanted to prove that I could do it.  I wanted to do it with my Dad.  I don’t remember exactly, but the final time was around 5 hours.  I was making myself do something physically painful in order to prove I could do it.  I wouldn’t do that to my body now.

I went home to my apartment on West 98th Street, and as I was getting in the bath, my Mom said, “Oh, honey!  You did it!  You did it!”

I said, “and I don’t EVER have to do it again.”

Right then was the beginning of me starting to realize how hard I was making life for myself.  I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but I knew I was ruining my life by trying to prove myself in these ways.  Maybe for someone else it would be a wonderful celebration of their abilities and perseverance, but for me, it was just proof that ego was running my life and it left me without any real happiness.

I accomplished so much, but none of it left me feeling happy.

No matter what I accomplished, it was never enough.

Each accomplishment just left me feeling emptier and emptier.

There are so many ways that we play small in our lives and trying to make ourselves feel “good enough” by accomplishing things is just one of them.  

I like to say, we’re already as holy as holy can be. There’s nothing to improve upon, we just need to accept that basic truth.

Most people believe they’re imperfect and need improving.

Self-Improvement is a whole industry.

“Yet it is surely clear that the perfect need nothing, and you cannot experience perfection as a difficult accomplishment, because that is what you are.” ~ A Course in Miracles 

It took me another 20 years or so to really learn to stop pushing and to realize that being loving was the way to tap into the Power of Love within me.

Being kind, compassionate and gentle took me years to cultivate and it was so worth it.  I don’t push myself like that anymore.  I walk the talk and live the Love in order to be honest with myself and others – and I don’t do it because I have to, or because I’d be embarrassed not to, but because it’s what feels best to me.  I like it.

In A Course in Miracles we’re taught that we’ll know we’re on the right track by how we feel and I’ve certainly proven that to myself.

It was a long hard lesson for me to learn, and that’s why I’m so committed to showing others how to learn it quickly and easily so we can all stay on the high road together.

If you feel like you might be playing small, holding yourself back, toughing it out, ignoring your needs or letting other people treat you poorly because of your beliefs about yourself – if you think maybe those beliefs are false and could be eliminated, and if you have a willingness to do some inner work to make a real and lasting change then please consider joining me and some other folks just like you who are SO DONE WITH PLAYING SMALL and ready to let those patterns go.