On a chilly Flagstaff fall morning I met Rachel for a 15 mile run on A1 mountain, one of our popular forest service roads. As we climbed the rolling dirt on our way out we chatted, laughed, filling each other with stories and plans for our future. I met Rachel a few years ago and over time we just kept clicking and clicking, understanding one another the more we hung out. I’ve found the older we get the harder it becomes to make new friends. You’re stuck in your routine, your lifestyle and it’s uncomfortable to break out of that. But I’ve also learned to experience true friendship and deep connection you need to be ok with getting uncomfortable. And so Rachel and I have bonded over the discomfort of running long runs at 7000ft, running mile repeats together, racing 5000m on the track together, and hard conversations. She is what I call a keeper.
On this particular Saturday long run I explained to Rachel I had been questioning why I share a lot about my life in such a public forum. Is it for attention? Is it a distraction? Is it genuine? As we hit 7.5 miles and flipped now heading back down the dirt road I teared up gasping for air as I tried to verbalize what my heart was feeling. I share for the connection. For the possibility that someone is feeling what I’m feeling and either needs to hear it or that someone will reach out to me and assure me they feel this too. Then I wonder is sharing even helping people or is it me just unloading my own crap? I don’t want that to be the driving force I’m sharing. Yet through sharing sometimes strangers check in with me more than the people that I think are in my life do. When my dad died at 18, I knew I would travel a different road as I became an adult. Each parent give their children various tools to navigate life. So without my dad, a part of me always feels missing or lost. I wondered if I would one day wake up maybe at the age of 35 and think I’m an adult now, so I know how to make all of my own decisions. I’d know how to raise children. I would have somehow shaped what my values and beliefs are. I should have my shit together. And for the most part I do. I have a job, I have a passion, I have my health, I have a supportive husband, and 2 amazing boys.
I fought hard to turn my goals and dreams from childhood into a reality. Essentially I am very happy. Yet there is a hole. I don’t know where it comes from or how long it has been there, but it rears it’s head periodically. I think because I have shared much of my life and journey as an athlete and mom I am seen as “doing well.” And for all intents and purposes of that definition I am. And for that reason people don’t check in on me. People that are in my life. But strangers they check in on me. So I think that’s why I share. Maybe you need to be checked in on even if “you’re doing well.” I also see what drives me to reach out to my friends, my family, and my teammates because I hope everyone feels connection from somewhere. People who are suffering internally and externally and are able to one day admit it, we come rushing to their side. I know I did this with my brother Jamie. I am doing this with my mom right now. Yet sometimes if you have your shit together no one rushes to your side. Humans beings need connection, we are wired that way. Perhaps as we grow older the people we used to think would check in on us have simply moved on in a natural separation. I am wondering do we all have holes? Do we fill them with various coping mechanisms. Even the happiest of us must experience a hole in our life. And yeah those holes look differently and surely mine is insignificant in the grand scheme of life. Nonetheless I’m experiencing one. I’m working on how to fill my hole without distraction, without shallow experiences, but with acknowledging its existence. This was a start. This was helpful to share. I hope it sparks more connection and conversation.
STEPH BRUCE