Finding the Space Between Comfort and Discomfort

 This past weekend found me lacing up for a half-marathon just north of the city.  It was a race I hadn't run before, taking place in a township I have often visited on two wheels, either powered by my legs or a motor.  Travelling there and revisiting some fond memories, while making new ones, felt like a fun way to spend a Sunday morning, and the distance felt challenging yet manageable.  This would be my first long race of the season, and would provide me with some feedback about the training I've been doing since I ran my marathon last fall.

In the months leading up to this race, I had been diligently putting away the kilometres, managing four runs a week, despite the weather and other distractions life had to offer.  The runs often felt like an anchor for my weeks, the one thing I could count on when other aspects of my days felt out of my control.  School was tough this semester, and running provided a necessary outlet to distract my mind from the overwhelm and worries that kept cropping up. 

Not all of the sessions were fun.  I am someone who enjoys hill workouts and longer easy runs.  Anything that remotely involves speed training tends to bring forth feelings of self-doubt and imposter syndrome.  I am sure that this stems from many unhappy gym classes in high school and body image issues that I still combat to this day.  The thought of me trying to run fast makes me laugh - me...run fast...like a real runner?  You must be joking!  And yet, I found myself simply nodding and getting myself out the door on those speed work days to do my best at following the training plan and not holding back out of fear.

You see, running fast feels uncomfortable.  And who among us enjoys feeling discomfort?  The mental discomfort is what gets me - fear of my body breaking down, or not being able to do the work it needs to, or simply blowing up and feeling like crap afterwards.  The funny thing is that despite all of these fears, never once did I have any of these outcomes play out the way I worried they might.  Sure, not all of the sessions felt great, and I often needed to remind myself that I had done this before and could do it again, but the thing is that I DID do it again, and I DID manage to meet the challenges that I needed to throughout the training block.

So why was I so nervous leading up to this race?  It felt like a bunch of butterflies had invaded my tummy in the days leading up to the half.  Anytime I thought about the race, I immediately felt my nerves kicking in, accompanied by doomsday thinking.  It was as if I had completely discounted the work I had been doing, focusing only on the fact that there were going to be moments of discomfort ahead, and I wasn't sure how I would fare.

And I was not wrong.  Throughout the race, I found myself moving between moments of comfort and discomfort, both mentally and physically.  Had I paced myself correctly?  Was I taking in enough nutrition and fluids?  Was I taking in too much?  There was only one way to find out, and that was to continue navigating the liminal space between these two emotions while putting one foot in front of the other.  Before I knew it, the tug of war was over - the finish was in sight, and a final push got me across the line, arms flung over my head and a victorious smile on my face. 

On the drive home afterward, I had time to reflect on the day and this push-pull between comfort and discomfort.  Pain is a motivating factor in our lives; it is often the catalyst that moves us forward or causes us to change direction entirely.  Despite how powerful it can be, it is also something that we tend to try to avoid as much as possible:  no one wants to live a life that is pain-filled.  But what would happen if we became more comfortable with being uncomfortable, even for short periods of time?  Would it help us to face difficult times and decisions with more clarity and self-determination?  Would it increase our resiliency and ability to navigate uncertainty, ultimately helping us to push past roadblocks and indecision?  As cliché as this sounds, I think this is where growth lies, in that space of comfortable discomfort, where we are almost sure we are going to make it, but won't truly know until we cross the line.