That picture that you see, that’s me. Those words that you see, I did that.

The “show up and be seen” Brene Brown mantra that’s been on repeat in my head came to life this Labor Day weekend. Sure I was riddled with some angst, but I showed up. I showed up and allowed myself to be seen. As I should have guessed, once I did, it didn’t suck.

I showed up with my pace anxieties; with my apprehension about keeping up; with my reluctance to run with runners that intimidated me; and, all while toting around extra weight that has challenged everything about running for me. Still, I f’ing showed up.

Even though I’ve been running for several years, going out to group runs has been hard for me. I do it, but it’s so stinking hard sometimes. I get sucked in because I love running, and I love my running friends. We talk about the races we are training for, compare notes about what training plans we’ve adopted, and we share the running goals we’ve set for ourselves. It’s all pretty great once I convince myself to go, but at some point, after the hellos and hugging, we are going to run. Together. All at the same time. Shorter distances, but faster than I am accustomed to running. That scares my freaking face off. Every. Single. Time. Every run is a risk v. reward exercise. Do I want to risk some discomfort for the reward of the “I just did that shit” feeling after the run?

In the interest of full disclosure, let me be clear – we are talking about group road runs of anywhere between 3 to 6 miles. When I say it, and see it in print, I almost want to punch myself it seems so stupid considering that I have done distances ranging from 5k (3.1 miles) to 100k (62.1 miles). Yeah, it is pretty shameful, but my fear is not distance; its speed. When you go far, especially really far, there is some expectation that your pace is slower. So by all means, distance appeals to me so much more than shorter, faster distances. I won’t flinch at a 20 mile trail run, but I just about crawl into the fetal position and rock back and forth when I think I have to do a “quick road run.” Longer distances minimize the pressure of running with groups because the longer the distance, the less people lined up to do them. Depending on who you hang out with, you can probably grab just about anyone from your friend group and convince them to run a 5k training distance or race with you after zero training. Try that with a marathon or a 30 mile training run. I can just about guarantee it doesn’t turn out the same way. Again, it depends on who makes up your friend group, and the gauge reading on their adventure-seeking barometer.

So while it’s true that I have made some of the best running pals one could ask for; that I’ve landed in the right places, at the right times, with the right runners; it is also true that I’ve been a complete chicken shit at times. I have managed on more occasions than I care to count, to disappear into my fear of not being able to keep up, and convince myself that I have 689 things that out rank a group run so I can avoid what scares me.

Sunday Runday has been one of the group runs I’ve avoided. I’d think going was a great idea, then almost immediately, convince myself why it would be awful. My brain would automatically go to the place of “they’ll have to wait on me” or “someone will feel bad, hang back with me, and screw up their own run.” Basically just bullshit excuses. Pretty stupid since I am really ok with being in the back of the pack and really don’t need anyone to hang back, and more times than not, I am the last runner to come in. That part might have bothered me as a baby runner, but as I’ve put more miles on my feet, that really isn’t the shit part for me anymore. It’s not how I feel coming in last. It’s the story I make up in my head about what others think or feel about waiting on me because I am coming in last. That’s where things get cray-cray for me.

The universe decided to kick my ass in gear and conspired for the topic of Sunday Runday to come up with my friends after our trail run on Saturday. (Trail runs aren’t as pace-intimidating as road runs because of so many variables with trails.) After listening to my friends reassure me that pace was a non-issue, by the time I drove out of the parking lot, I had decided to go to the run the next day. It wouldn’t matter if I was slower than everyone else. It wouldn’t matter if I did intervals. It wouldn’t matter if I was the last runner to come in. Who freaking cares? I was doing it. And besides that, the reward for the run was beer and hanging with people I really like. No downside when you think of it that way, right?

Well not only did I show up, but I was actually early. The early thing seems insignificant unless you know me. I was there and I was ready. I was nervous, but I took off. Admittedly my running with the group was short-lived as they moved farther ahead, but I was doing the group run. I ran intervals just like I’ve trained my body and brain to do. I allowed myself to make peace with how I run. Accepting what works for me. Finding my way to a place of confidence in my running performance. Putting the need to compare myself to other runners to rest. Not only saying it, but truly believing that I am in control of how this journey takes shape.

So, with the help of my friend, Leslie, I made it through my first Sunday Runday! Not only did I run, but I ran faster and with more confidence. It must have been obvious to my new running partner because after pushing me to run faster, she also thought it would be fun to challenge me to some sprints. It was liberating. It was awesome. It was hard in the best way possible. The hard way that reminded me of why I love running. The awesome way that made me appreciate the fantastic friends that I run with, next to, and behind.