Pssst…hey you! InnerBadAss. You still in there? Why, come on out!

I miss her.  I want her back.  And I think she’s on her way.

I have had a few profound moments/time periods when I feel fully in touch with myself or my life makes sense.  During these times I make stuff happen.  I get shit done.  Not my usual everyday-I-do-a-lot-of-”things”…but big stuff where I end up connected & grounded.  Internal shifts. I make transformations.  And man, oh man, I could use a little of that about now.

The first was when I was rowing in college (*) and realized that I could push harder than I ever thought in pursuit of a goal and that I could believe in myself.  I could totally kick ass if I wanted too!   I was calloused, bloodied, strong and blistered.  And on the water I felt solid.    (*Note: when I was at Iowa both women and men’s crew were club sports like this.  Now the women are NCAA Div. 1 and very fancy.  We didn’t roll that way.  We paid our own way and were coached by our own.  We rowed in floods and then crashed our new shell into a bridge.  I realize this is a bit like walking in the snow uphill both ways but it’s true.  There were dead fish.  Debris.  A scary abandoned house was our boat house.  It wasn’t pretty.) It was incredible.

The second was when I realized I was queer.   Aha!  Finally, so many things made sense.  I don’t think that needs much more explanation eh?

The next was when I became a cyclist and began my love affair with my bike.  Connected. Strong. I gained confidence & direction.  Each long distance event brought me closer to myself.

Then the all-encompassing Ironman triathlons–2006 & 2008.  Oh, how I love me some IM training.  It is a sick twisted love affair.    It is intense, gritty, hard, painful, exhilarating and empowering.   To endure 6 months of training, push yourself through a 2.4 mile swim(while getting clobbered), then a 112 mile bike ride (hilly naturally) only to follow it up with a 26.2 “run” and hear the announcement  ”Meg, you are an Ironman” (irony not lost) while thousands upon thousands of spectators cheer you on is just plain awesome.  Frickin’ awesome.

During IM training I feel invincible.  I can start and complete anything. I have vision, clarity and drive. I kick ass and take names.  While smiling (and sometimes skipping).

After the latest Ironman, I kind of stopped exercising.  Tired.  Spent.  The logistics alone of training for IM with a partner who is also training for said IM (while in a PhD program) and you are both working is a nightmare.  Toss in a newborn that is still breastfeeding and you are clearly nuts.

But my break is officially over.  I’m a running gal again.  I am a runner. It has been an important part of my identity for so long and I’ve hated not doing it.   I love to run.

As I re-start running, I feel more grounded with every slow, cloddy, out-of-shape step I take.  I sense glimmers of my inner bad-ass return.

On the best days I’m outside. No stroller. No music.  Just me.  My shoes.  My heavy-duty-post-pregnancy-hold-them-down-power bra.   That is all the fancy crap I need to get my power groove on.