I am what some would call “fat” and others would call “fluffy” or perhaps, “plus-sized.”  Some would say, “you are athletic” or “don’t you have the prettiest face.”  Regardless, I am a woman plus more.   Only, I’m not really plus-sized, because I can sometimes wear jeans from normal stores. So take that!   Anyway, my point is:  I am not some “oh isn’t she just darling in her running skirts, flitting all over, running!?”  No, I am not like that when I exercise. I am a large, tough, sweaty mess who has been working really hard to make these triathlon dreams happen.

Triathlon? Oh yes.

I have really been busting my tail training for my next big race.  I have been training for this long triathlon–in addition to other things, like oh, you know–life, work, kids, spouse and the like.  The next big race is kind of a big deal–an “iron” distance race of 140.6 miles of swimming, cycling and running.  Training for that kind of insanity is pretty tough.  But I have been feeling awesome and strong and ready to go with about eight weeks left.

This morning, as I was sneaking out of the quiet, dark house in the wee hours to get my long run accomplished, I fell down the stairs.  KA-PLAT. Fell.  Down.  I landed on my toes.  But not like a cat.  More like a Buddha.  My poor toes smashed under me.

Suddenly, I knew that I was not running that morning.

The pain was intense, yes.  I was mad that I had fallen (how stupid of me!).  But mostly, I found that I was ticked off because my divine plan, had been thwarted.  My big plan of running and being awesome was no more.

I didn’t cry until I realized that my schedule was messed up.  No cry at the first landing on the ground?  Nope. No cry as I cringed trying to walk? No way.  I only cried when I learned that my day was not going as planned (X-rays? Who has time for that?!).  I cried because my training schedule would have this scarlett “A” on it for the missed workout.

But most of all I cried because I didn’t know how in the world I would plan what was next.  I couldn’t control the “next” part–because I didn’t know what was happening in the present.

Learning to relinquish control of the uncontrollable has been a huge struggle of mine for many years.

After my sob-fest this morning, I realized that I was once again standing , looking out on something important–the ability to get my act together and make the best of the situation.

As I hobbled to the car to go to the doctor, I decided that I would make the best of the limping, non-running scenario.

I might not be able to run with the gnarled foot condition, but I could hug my kids, do my work and kiss my husband. In light of my ephiphany, I decided that I would eat a really bad-for-me dinner, not feel guilty about, then hug my family and start anew tomorrow morning.

Only the next time, I vow to turn on the light and watch my step…