All Walls Have Doors
Today I am grateful for the community we live in and the many services it has to offer. I am also grateful for the ease of using pictures stored on CDs.
I have one more Seattle Marathon tidbit to blog about. I enjoy reading the signs that people will hold along a marathon route. Seattle didn't have a ton of spectators or signs, but of those I saw, my favorite was a sign around mile 18. It was posted several feet up on a tree trunk and written plainly on a piece of cardboard. No one was near the sign when I saw it. It said "All walls have doors." It really resonated with me at that point in the race. My legs were tired and I knew there were hills ahead.
Running a marathon is as much a psychological undertaking as it is a physical one. Many are familiar with the phrase "hitting the wall" being used to refer to the point in a marathon or other race where the runner encounters serious fatigue. I have hit that wall on long runs, but for me it has been a wall I could climb over, run around, or through.I have never hit the wall so hard that I had to stop. Walk maybe. Stop no. But I am not running competitively, nor am I pushing myself to go as fast as I can. I am trying to maintain a pace that will carry me through. (That sounds like a good philosophy for my days too.) I can understand why some who do run for time, who are truly racing, may have a different experience with hitting the wall.
When I saw the sign "All walls have doors" I began to think more about life in general, beyond a runner's wall. What walls have limited me in my life? Were they real walls or just in my head? How did I find the doors? I kept moving. I kept trying. Trying to quit drinking on my own was one wall I could not scale, one wall that seemed high, formidable, and with no doors to be found. I failed time and time again. Only when I had "hit" that wall enough times, felt enough pain, and bruised my ego enough did I finally surrender and seek help. Surrendering started to crumble the wall. Sobriety helped me see doors that may have been there all along. I kept moving. I still keep moving and taking daily actions to avoid hitting the wall of active alcoholism again. I am grateful for what the walls in my life have taught me and continue to teach me. I am grateful to those who have helped me find the doors.
What are the walls in your life? Have you been looking for the doors? Have you found one but are afraid to open it? Take a leap of faith today and open it.
I have one more Seattle Marathon tidbit to blog about. I enjoy reading the signs that people will hold along a marathon route. Seattle didn't have a ton of spectators or signs, but of those I saw, my favorite was a sign around mile 18. It was posted several feet up on a tree trunk and written plainly on a piece of cardboard. No one was near the sign when I saw it. It said "All walls have doors." It really resonated with me at that point in the race. My legs were tired and I knew there were hills ahead.
Running a marathon is as much a psychological undertaking as it is a physical one. Many are familiar with the phrase "hitting the wall" being used to refer to the point in a marathon or other race where the runner encounters serious fatigue. I have hit that wall on long runs, but for me it has been a wall I could climb over, run around, or through.I have never hit the wall so hard that I had to stop. Walk maybe. Stop no. But I am not running competitively, nor am I pushing myself to go as fast as I can. I am trying to maintain a pace that will carry me through. (That sounds like a good philosophy for my days too.) I can understand why some who do run for time, who are truly racing, may have a different experience with hitting the wall.
When I saw the sign "All walls have doors" I began to think more about life in general, beyond a runner's wall. What walls have limited me in my life? Were they real walls or just in my head? How did I find the doors? I kept moving. I kept trying. Trying to quit drinking on my own was one wall I could not scale, one wall that seemed high, formidable, and with no doors to be found. I failed time and time again. Only when I had "hit" that wall enough times, felt enough pain, and bruised my ego enough did I finally surrender and seek help. Surrendering started to crumble the wall. Sobriety helped me see doors that may have been there all along. I kept moving. I still keep moving and taking daily actions to avoid hitting the wall of active alcoholism again. I am grateful for what the walls in my life have taught me and continue to teach me. I am grateful to those who have helped me find the doors.
What are the walls in your life? Have you been looking for the doors? Have you found one but are afraid to open it? Take a leap of faith today and open it.
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