Tonight I started to think about how tomorrow is my final long run (*only* 7 miles) before the marathon next Sunday. As I thought of the entire journey of marathon training leading up to tomorrow and then realizing in just over a week it will all be over, I started to get really teary. I thought it was just excitement. I thought it was just pride. I thought it was just that realization of, “Wow, Anne. You did it. You fucking did it. Calf injury and all, you made it.”

I went on with my night, ready to fully enjoy it.

I came downstairs and the sadness returned. “Why am I so emotional? What is up?” I wanted to text him. I wanted to tell him what I was going through. I wanted to connect with him on something we could both relate so deeply to. But I didn’t. Instead, I sat here and cried. I chose to get curious about what I was feeling. Then I realized what it was.

I’m alone. Like really fucking alone.

Last year when I applied for the Chicago Marathon, I was in a relationship. I was in a long-term, gonna last forever, love each other until the end of time relationship. I was so nervous about submitting my info for the marathon that I didn’t even tell him. I did it while I was at my part-time nanny job and then I texted him.

“Guess what?”
“What?”
“I just applied for the Chicago Marathon!”
“You did??”

He was a runner. He ran last year and my dad and I supported him. It was while I was at the marathon that I fell in love with the thought of something I said I would NEVER do and thought, “What the hell? Let’s see if I get picked.”

“If you get picked (which you will) I’m not going to run it. I want to be there to fully support you.”

December 13th I received the email I had been accepted, almost a month after we had officially taken a break from our relationship. The morning I received the email felt very similar to tonight. Extreme excitement and pride, mixed with deep sadness. Although we hadn’t officially broken up at that point and I prayed every night we would get through it, we didn’t.

I still had hope, though, that we would somehow make it out on the other side together. I thought, “It’s almost a year away. Anything can happen.” Almost a year later, and I’m no longer living in Chicago anymore.

I shared the news with my family and I thought, “At least my dad will be there. He was there to help me cheer on my ex so he’ll totally be there.”

“When do you go back to Italy?”
“The middle of September.”

My dad and step-mom wouldn’t be there to cheer me on.
My mom would be back in Singapore.
No one would be there.

Here’s where my old patterns get triggered.

These are the moments I would rather drink a bottle of wine than feel my feelings.
It probably has something to do with why I ate more cookies than I intended without even thinking about it.

Ego is pissed.
Ego is hurt.
Ego wants to play the victim card.

These are the moments we want to send that text to our ex, aren’t they?

I’m sharing the raw, real truth because these are so often the times we catch the pattern after the fact instead of in the middle of it.

It may not be a marathon for you, but whatever it is you know the pain I’m experiencing.

Ego = your inner child

Your inner child is hurt.
Your inner child feels unloved.
You’re wanting love and wanting it from anything and everything outside of you.

You’re wanting it from your ex.
You’re wanting it from your dad.
You’re wanting it from your mom.
You’re wanting it from the wine…
…and the cookies.

Pay close attention. This is when you have to give it to yourself.

I know it sucks.
I know it hurts.
I know it doesn’t seem fucking fair.
But love, you’re the only one you can ever count on.
You’re the only one you ever truly have anyway.

So love yourself hard.
Love yourself more fiercely than you ever have before because you deserve it.
You deserve love.
You deserve happiness.
You deserve to fucking celebrate because you have fought fucking hard for where you are today.

So cross that finish line with pride.
Cross it and know you did something you swore you would never do.
And when no one is on the other side waiting for you, bask in the journey you went on to love yourself through it all.
Then promise me you will do whatever it fucking takes to bring yourself joy because you deserve it more than you will ever allow yourself to feel.

Each disappointment and every heartache is one more opportunity to love yourself.