Give up now.

“Hey!”

the man yelled, trying to get my attention.

“Here we go again,” I thought as I passed the lunch line for the Soup Kitchen at St. Joe’s. Having dodged his insults the week before, it was pretty clear a filter-less stream of consciousness was about to be directed my way.

“Hey, it’s that actress again. You know the one, Arnie Schwarzenegger?”

“Not an actress,” I thought to myself.

“Yeah, the one with Arnie Schwarzenegger in that movie. I’ve got it! It’s her! It’s f---ing Jamie Lee Curtis!”

I knew it. I knew my hair cut was too short. This clairvoyant had seen right through my tuque to my deepest, darkest fears. The week before, in desperate need of a hair cut, I’d tried a new salon, as my last hairdresser in Ottawa had the gall to retire while I was away living in Switzerland. The new one had cut off my side-mullet, and I was still pissed about it.

Not enough mullet.

Oddly, this wasn’t the first time my personal doubts were verbalized by a homeless person…

That happened when I started taking up running.

It was noon one summer day in 2003, and I’d finally coerced myself into lacing up my running shoes. “Come on,” I’d muttered, trying to motivate myself. “Even if you run slowly, you’ll feel like you’ve accomplished something when you’re done. Just get out there.”

Battling a stitch in my side, I made my way down the Laurier Bridge to the Rideau Canal. “Almost half-way done!” I cheered myself on by singing “Happy Birthday” in 5/4 time – 2 breaths in, 3 out.

I heard someone calling out to me as I approached a park bench. Squinting against the mid-day sun, I tried to make out if it was a friend: if it was, surely I could justify a short break!

As I neared, I heard him shout out, this time more clearly. Too clearly.

“Give up now!”, he yelled, clasping his paper-bag-covered bottle of liquid inspiration. “You’ll never be a runner! Just give up now!”

I ran by as best as one can while overcome with a fit of laughter, fuelled by the realization that if this man was personification of the voice behind those negative thoughts in my head, I was probably going to be alright!

Time to lace up!

How many times since then have I heard that same voice of doubt creep into my head, telling me: you can’t do this. Just give up now. You’re not qualified. You should just save yourself the effort. It can’t be done. After all, this dude was 100% right: I wasn’t a runner. But then again, it wasn’t my goal to be a runner: it was my goal to get outside for some fresh air and exercise.

“So,” you say, in breath-held suspense, “did you ever succeed? Did you ever become a runner?”

You could say so: over the years, I’ve run my share of half marathons. I’ve trained with athletes who weren’t motivated to run alone (training-speed, they always call it, lol!). I went out for a jog every day in Geneva during the first seven months of the pandemic. I always return to running, no matter where I live. I find it’s the best way to take in my environment and to stay on top of my mental health: unplugged and on foot.

A picture from one of my favourite running routes.

Since that day, I’ve run my share of miles, both literal and figurative, knowing that it was most important to listen to the other voice, my own voice, that says “going slow is better than not trying at all.”

Recently, after a bit of a break from running, I took a hilly route that I had no business trying out. This time though, instead of hearing “Give up now”, a group of women shouted out

“Courage!”

And so, I just ran!

We find ourselves today in a new year, ready to face new challenges and realize old dreams, and I, for one, am feeling oddly optimistic.

Here is my wish for you:

May 2022 stretch you beyond your comfort zone. May you face its challenges boldly, head-on, one slow, audacious step at a time. May the voice that says “Give up now” be overpowered by laughter. May you hear in its place your own voice cheering you on, ringing out a loud and clear, “Courage!”

The top of the hill (it’s steeper than it looks…) where they cheered, “Courage!”

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