Now What?

                I’ve noticed the last couple weeks that I’ve had this overwhelming feeling of blah. At first I thought I was coming down with some cootie virus, as I had heard sometimes happens after a marathon. But congestion, nose blowing and achiness did not follow. I’ve just felt sort of melancholy for no particular reason. The holiday’s, while in the past haven’t been spectacular, have actually been pretty decent so far.  I’ve just had this sense of “now what” running through my head. Even though I’ve been training for the FFAT I’ve still had this feeling that I lack direction. Then it hit me as I was driving home from my unsuccessful FFAT…I have spent the last year training for a huge event that is now over with.

                Initially, my training started as a way to get prepared for the FBI physical and fitness test but when that was put on hold due to budget cuts I on a whim signed up for the MCM. From January until October my life was focused on what foods I needed to eat, what body part was injured, my training schedule and finding socks that didn’t give me blisters and helped cut down on the post run stink. Now that the marathon is done and my body is feeling pretty decent and I have found the perfect sock, I am feeling lost.  

                I honestly didn’t realize until the last few weeks how much of my being was shaped by the experience of becoming a runner. My whole life has changed from my sleep pattern to my food to my need to plan my life around my workout and running schedule.

                A recent article in Runners World said that one needs to set new goals, which I have done to a degree. I have already signed up for my next set of races: two half marathons, a 5k and am waiting patiently for January to roll around so that I can sign up for the Marine Corps Irish Sprint. But when I think about a half marathon it seems so small compared to what I did. Then I feel like a pompous dork for thinking that a half marathon is small when I’ve only ever run one marathon in my entire life.

                It’s not that I don’t look forward to my race schedule that will also include a Spartan Race (or two) and a Warrior Dash, but I feel like I want to do something more. As President Bartlet on The West Wing would say “what’s next,” I wonder what’s next. I’ve accomplished a marathon (which I would like to do again) but now I want more but I don’t know what “more” looks like.

                Until I figure out what my “now what” looks like I’ll keep push upping until I pass my FFAT  and I’ll keep running and hopes that along the way I find a direction and purpose. 

Push-upping

                Today was a jumble of emotions. I started the day in the dark, traversing my way down 270 and 495 in morning rush hour to take my Functional Fitness Assessment Test (FFAT). I was a mix of excitement, nervousness and nausea. I also felt calm and centered. I had practiced the fitness test. I had visualized myself passing the test. Completing with flying colors and making my way across the state of Maryland to MSP Headquarters for my written exam. Slight hitch in the plan though. I didn’t make it past the pushups.

This morning’s FFAT was as follows:

Minimum of 18 pushups in 1 minute

Minimum of 27 sit-ups in 1 minute

16.25” sit and reach

10 trigger pulls in each hand

1.5 mile run in 15:20

                I received my letter inviting me to the FFAT two weeks ago. In the last two weeks I have been push-upping until my arms hurt in places I didn’t realize existed. I was concerned because I couldn’t get past 5 without feeling like my arms were going to collapse. And then low and behold Saturday morning I woke up and did 18 pushups. They were beautiful and left me with 15 seconds to spare. I was thrilled when I was able to repeat this feat several times over the next 48 hours, even increasing my total up to 22.

                However, it would seem that my efforts were for naught, at least in regards to the FFAT. I wasn’t getting far enough down in my pushups. I have to go all the way down to the instructor’s fist, so essentially 3” off the floor. I was getting about 4” away. 1 darn inch. I did 15 pushups at the test without a single one counting. When I became frustrated, I uttered shit and was told that I needed to maintain my composure, I realized that I wasn’t as prepared as I thought so I held a plank for the remaining 30 seconds of the exercise. I may not have been able to complete the pushups but I wasn’t about to take a knee before time.

                I was embarrassed and defeated. I had failed. Thankfully my instructor took a few minutes to demonstrate form and explain to me how I needed to improve. That 2 minute conversation did wonders for my spirits, though the sting of embarrassment was still there.

                I took an hour to wallow, bummed that I had failed. But then I realized in two weeks I had managed to go from not being able to push up to being able to do 22, even if they weren’t MSP regulation. I realize that the true failure would have been not trying.

                So for the next month, I will be push-upping and sit-upping during TV commercial breaks. I will take what I learned from the instructor and practice and in a month I will try again and this time, I will conquer those pushups. And instead of a mere 18 I’m going to push for more. I will show the MSP that I am the best suited candidate for the job.