My Greatest Fear

This post was inspired by the Go Dog Go Tuesday Writing prompt: write an acrostic poem that spells out your greatest fear. Wow. Good thing my greatest fear isn’t disclosing too much or being too vulnerable. Seriously.

I had to think about this a lot – what am I afraid of? Not any type of animal or insect (although I will scream if it means someone else will do the dirty deed of killing the latter). Not really any activity although I’m not thrilled about things that involve heights especially if I’m being dangled on said heights with just nylon between me and the swan dive of death. Thinking of death, I don’t feel afraid of dying either. It happens to us all. Dealing with loss – I’m surviving that.

I remember a moment after giving birth to my twins, Lucas and Larissa, when they were only 22 weeks old – just a week shy of the “age of viability”. The doctor told me, “They’re really small and at this stage of gestation, they only have a 50/50 chance to live. Do you still want us to do everything we can to save them?” My answer, of course, “Yes – anything, everything!” My children didn’t survive, but it was at that moment that I thought to myself, “If I had to die so my children would live, would I be willing to die for them?”

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My Greatest Fear

Crying will not help

Only sacrifice

Will be enough

Am I enough?

Realizing that

Death is an option

I am afraid

Courage escapes me

Eternity will know I failed

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What I really fear is being a coward – being afraid and not standing up or speaking out when I need to, especially when it comes to protecting my children or others who I care about. It’s being afraid to make the ultimate sacrifice if it comes down to me or family/friends.

I know people have given their lives to protect others – as part of their job or because they felt compelled to. I know people put their lives at risk to speak out for those who are unable to. I know people intervene when they see injustice or see others getting hurt.

I am afraid that when the time comes, I will not be one of those people. I will cower in my comfortable life and leave the heavy lifting for others to do. I am afraid deep down inside of showing the world how much of a coward I really am.

Although, when it’s written as an acrostic poem, it doesn’t seem so scary….

Sola 

My recent post about my self-professed “fish love of running” has stayed in my mind since I posted it. If you know me IRL, you know that I am not a natural runner. I only started running when I was 30 so it’s been only about 13 years since I laced up my first pair of running shoes.

This week, I did a couple of quick miles while my girls were at their horse back riding lesson (yes, I am living vicariously through them – what little girl didn’t go through a horse obsession?).

The spirit of grace and speed…oh yes, and there are horses in the picture too! 🤣

It was my first sola run in a long time, probably almost a year since we moved to our new locale. As much as I love running with my group #MRTT, having this time for myself was something I didn’t realize I was missing.

When I first started running, I ran exclusively alone. I was worried about being slow and didn’t want anyone witnessing my walking or jiggly body parts. As I was able to run farther and faster and became more confident, I joined my local running group and realized the awesomeness that is the group run. Now, I usually always run with my MRTT group and do stuff like this:

#sportsbrasquad #mrttbodsquad

Running has definitely given me the gift of confidence not just in my body but in mind and spirit.

And that’s something I really need right now.

As lovely as the farmland surrounding me during this run, I couldn’t help but think of the people living in the area who might not welcome me running through, who would think of me as “other” and attribute any number of negative qualities based on my skin and facial features. Would they even see me as “just” a runner? I couldn’t decide whether I should try to run faster for safety or run slower to prove that I, too, deserve to be here.

As my footsteps found their rhythm, my breathing became my focus and I was finally able to enjoy my run. This is the second best gift I have received from running: the ability to have a few moments of freedom.

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