Ready is not a feeling

Zombies help

(You might notice something new: I’ve opened up comments on this Substack. Feel free to connect there!)

A couple of months ago, I mentioned that I had taken up running.

You can read that below if you missed it.

I've started running

The fact that I’m a runner now feels so damn unlikely. But here I am, running three times a week, slowly, not very far, and my own middle-aged, pronating way. And it’s bringing me joy that is hard to explain. Like, I actually get sad on my off days when I can’t run. So that’s when I do other crazy shit, like jump on a box.

This whole running thing is a significant change, and it’s all happening amid other major changes in my life. Change is not always easy to handle, which sucks because things are always changing. Like the Buddha said, everything is always “becoming otherwise” which is now my favorite way to say that. The man had a way with words.

The simplicity of running is so appealing. I don’t need anything. (OK, other than a properly supportive bra. I underestimated the importance of that.) But I don’t need lots of gear, or anyone else to participate; it’s just me, my shoes, my bra, and my cute little shorts, and I go.

My independent spirit rejoices.

Because of all this, I have just signed up for a four-mile fundraising run to support breast cancer research. Please note, I will not be “racing.” I will do this thing just to finish it. Mostly for the T-shirt, if we’re being honest.

Oh, and there will be bagels at the end.

I’m going to do walk-run-walk intervals, showing up with enthusiasm and a distinctly duck-footed gait. While the runner’s high is legit, I’m more impacted by the sense of satisfaction that comes with my commitment to do this thing. Discipline and routine are crucial for my mental health.

And apparently, so are the undead.

I’m using an app called Zombies! Run for my training. Because the zombie apocalypse has occurred (obvi), and I’m among a small number of people who have survived. I am being trained as an essential part of the team — my name is Runner 5. (The old Runner 5 was zombiefied.)

I venture out into dangerous territory to collect supplies from the hospital, intel from other townships, or sometimes to serve as zombie bait to help get injured runners back to base safely. There are love stories, tragedies, and various dramas interwoven into classic 5K training protocols. I freaking love it. I did hit a moral snag when we shot one of the zombies who was chasing me — this vegetarian thought she would just be running away from them — and so I cried on the treadmill. Jeremy reassured me it’s ok to kill zombies, but I’m still unsure where I stand on that. Nevertheless, I persist.¹

Beyond the zombie-murder-by-headshot, it’s hard to be a new runner. You look at the other people doing it with ease and wonder why that’s not you. You feel tired and breathless. You are deceived by the simplicity of running — by definition, it’s just one foot in front of the other — and assume it should be easy. But simple is not always easy. (See also: meditation.)

The obstacles with running are a lot like the ones with meditation. You have to deal with the demons in your mind telling you that you should be better at this, telling you that it’s embarrassing to be new, telling you to shut up and work harder, striving to prove something to… someone.

But that is all wrong. It’s a freaking gift to be able to do any of this. Whatever that looks like. Whenever I’ve seen anyone running (or meditating) I’ve never thought anything other than - my god they are so brave.

I’m about six weeks into my eight-week 5K zombie program. Now, in case your conversion abilities are failing at the moment: a four-miler is longer than a 5K.

So, there are many ways in which I’m objectively not ready for this run I’ve signed up for.

And yet.

Many people walk the entire course, so I can simply stop when I reach my limit. I’ll check my ego and do the best I can. Which is, of course, pretty much how anything gets done.

As a person who gets anxious and over-thinks most things, I don’t know that there will ever be in scenario where I stand firmly, impeccably put together, and calmly announce: “I’m ready.”

I’m more likely to stand there, hair frizzy, picking at my cuticles, muttering, “OK. At some point, I just gotta do this shit.”

Because ready is not a feeling. It’s a decision.

I have decided to be ready.

I’ll hydrate and fuel and stretch and warm up and cool down and stretch more, and be so goddamn grateful to be able to move my body.

Did I mention there would be bagels?

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What else has been going on:

What I’ve been reading

After realizing I’ve never read Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, I wondered what other gaps existed from that whole not-going-to-school thing. Anne Frank’s A Diary of a Young Girl was an obvious choice.

Holy hell. Yes. Everyone should read this book. And then read it again. And especially now that in some places, it is being banned for being pornographic. (I found it to be a brilliant book, but deeply unsatisfying porn.)

What else I’m reading

I was talking to a friend about the fact that almost immediately after finishing a book, I forget the details of it, only remembering how it made me feel. This article reassured me that you don’t need to remember what you just read. I think it was good, but I don’t remember.

You’re Not Supposed to Remember the Book

What I’ve been watching

Oh, The Residence is delightfully fun. The styling is great, and Uzo Aduba is brilliant. I’m not much of a "who done it" fan, but this was wonderful.

What I’m looking forward to

I still have spaces available for my weekend workshop at Kripalu, September 12-14. We’ll have a chill workshop, with lots of time for reflection, connection, and amazing food. This is my favorite place to teach, and I can’t wait to share it with you.

Thank you for reading, Friends. Take care of yourselves and each other.

Much love,

~Lisa

1. The Zombies! Run app has been around for a LONG time. In fact, the company seems to be winding up, having ridden a wave of popularity in 2012. But just like my running, I am slow to these things.