I surrender. Or not. But maybe.

Photo Mar 31, 9 15 46 AM

I surrender.

Last week, I raised the white flag on this blended family. Pronouncing it too hard to blend. Too much. Too frustrating. We are no different than any other blended family. We struggle to find our own drummer: the beat that holds us in step, the thread that unites us. And sometimes? Sometimes, the drummer stops drumming, the thread unravels, we get stuck, and I find myself surrendering to the enormity of biological and step. The dissonance created by those two realities weighs too heavily.

Or not.

Right now, I’m stuck in a 2:1 run/walk interval and sometimes the return to full running seems insurmountable. But as I was running and walking the other night, the clouds floating lightly in the sky, the trees blossoming, and the grass bravely returning to green, at once I felt relief. A sudden rush of reassurance. A comforting nod to this healing process. An understanding that if the trees can be strong and patient, if the grass can persist, season after season, then so can I. I can continue to move forward, to heal, to have faith in the process. To not surrender my patience and persistence as I journey to completing 70.3 miles in a single day. To not surrender my belief that this family works and will continue to grow.

Photo Mar 31, 6 44 36 PM

But maybe.

Maybe, though, surrender is necessary. In thinking about my writing, I realized yesterday that I have to surrender perfection. And that surrender rippled. It moved in waves, disturbing the other neat stacks I have tried to balance. As they all tumbled, through the dust and debris, I saw only me and the fears I have tried to hide amongst the stacks. Fear that this family will not work. Fear that I won’t be able to fully run again. Fear that I cannot really write.

I surrender those fears, too. And embrace that living sometimes comes in a 2:1 interval. Two minutes of running; one of walking. Two helpings of peace; one of struggle. Two moments of confidence; one of fear. The intervals are what keep us grounded and vulnerable and open to the process of living. The courage we have to navigate them, the patience we use to walk through them creates strength. Strength to release perfection. To conquer fear.

Category : blended family, connected, family, me, running, triathlons, writing