Why Am I Struggling?

“Why am I struggling?”

At Forest Park, a massive green space in St. Louis, there is a four-mile and a six-mile loop that I love to run. Each route starts the same: a collection of serious inclines and declines for about a mile. I repeatedly choose to walk that section. I am old enough to know that starting my run by fighting steep ups and downs will not set me up for success.

But on this particular day I decided to try something different. I knew I wanted to run four miles, but I didn’t want to walk that first mile. I wanted to spend more time running and pushing my average pace. So, I chose to replace the opening one-mile section of steep hills with a flat concrete sidewalk that runs parallel to a road that I frequently drive on. I knew after a mile it would merge perfectly with the trail that I wanted to run.

I arrived at the park, cued up some good workout music, and started my run. After 100 yards I realized I was really, really struggling. I stopped to walk for about 50 yards, and I began to think about the choices I had made that day. Did I drink enough water that morning? Yes. Did I eat enough carbs? Yes. Did I rest enough the day before? Yes. Did I have 1983 Jazzercise Velcro weights strapped to my ankles? No, but that is what it felt like. I kept asking myself, “Why am I struggling?”

I gave myself a pep talk and took off running again, but after another 100 yards my legs felt like they weighed 200 pounds each. Again, I heard that voice in my head, “why am I struggling?” I stopped to walk for a minute and then repeated that same pattern several times.

It wasn’t until I got to the end of the sidewalk that I realized why I was struggling: this section wasn’t actually flat; it was in fact a very steady, slow, incremental climb. I hadn’t noticed the subtle incline because I was prioritizing my expectations over my experience.

As I continued my run, I started to unpack several life lessons. First, I focused my energy on trying to figure out what was wrong. I believed that if I was struggling, I must be doing something wrong. A healthier approach would have been to acknowledge that I was doing something hard. The struggle came with the decision to drive to the park, get out of my car, and run while others sat in their climate controlled two tons of steel and carelessly drove by. There have been many times in my life when I have faced a struggle and have questioned what I was doing wrong. I wonder how those moments would have been different if I could have realized that the struggle was a result of simply doing something that was hard. 

Second, as a business owner, the last few years have felt a lot like my normal running routes: lots of ups and downs, twists and turns, navigating a path through wooded areas followed by a shift to a gravel trail next to a pond, leading to a change of pace on sidewalk going past the zoo. It’s part of what I love about running in this location—every quarter to half a mile is very unique and I enjoy the thrill of experiencing something different. 

But this slow, steady climb is much more what life feels like right now. One foot in front of the other, headed toward a clear destination, but the view isn’t as exciting, and the climb is tiring for no obvious reasons. This is where a lot of people, including myself, are tempted to give up. I am choosing to continue the climb and at the same time I know, from this run and from life experience, that it won’t always be a struggle. 

For example, I don’t enjoy booking hotels, but it does lead to safe places to sleep on work trips. I also hate doing expense reports but those create peace of mind during tax season. At some point, you leave the slow, steady climb and return to ever shifting, more life-giving changes in scenery. I’m embracing the struggle because I know it leads to other more enjoyable things.

And let’s not forget this: I have driven on the road next to the Sidewalk of Subtle Struggle maybe 100 times and I never noticed a change in the grade! When we are on foot, in the trenches, doing the work, not relying on the horsepower of something or someone else, we can start to appreciate all that we have accomplished. On that day, it wasn’t until I was a mile into my run that I could look back and see what I had overcome. And now, five years into my business, I am able to turn around and appreciate the journey. Measuring progress requires that we persevere and then pause to look back.

And lastly, I know for sure, despite the pain, there is nowhere else I would rather be right now. I am navigating life with a level of intentionality that I have not experienced before. I want to explore what is ahead and I want to surround myself with others who are putting their blister-filled feet to the pavement. I need to be near people who are choosing to take risks, people not only changing up their running routes, but those who also carve out a life path in ways that make sense to them. I want to continue to build a community of people who dream of a different life and then go create it while understanding that the moments of struggle are necessary elements in the creation process. 

So why am I struggling? Because whether I am out for a run, starting a business, or drilling down on my purpose, I realize that what I am doing matters. I am putting my own feet to the pavement and living my life in a way that most people choose not to pursue. 

The struggle doesn’t mean you are doing something wrong; it means you are doing something hard, and likely worth doing. 

Step by step. We can do this. 

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