Haters are gonna hate.
We've all heard that line so many times that it's easy to dismiss. However, we all know someone who lives on drama, someone who can't be pleased, someone who has to be right all the time, someone who judges everyone he/she walks passed. When we are the observer of this kind of hater behavior, it's easy to say, well she's a Drama Queen--her life is so boring that she has to pick at the littlest things and blow them out of proportion. It's easy to say, well, he's a hardass. Nothing is good enough for him so why bother.
But it's not easy to be the recipient of that behavior. It's not easy to bust your butt every day for a coach that, rather than seeing the 20 free throws you made in a row, hounds you for the layup you missed. It's not easy to be friends with someone who gives backhanded compliments like "you are so pretty, but it's too bad your acne takes away from that." Seriously. People are assholes.
I'd love to tell you to hold your head high and your middle finger higher and give a big f-you to the haters. While I'd totally support you if you did that, I know that is not the easy or classiest way to deal with haters. I'd love to tell you kill them with kindness, because if you repeatedly ooze with niceness, there's no way that someone could feel comfortable always being a jerk. However, as stated above, people are assholes, so that might not be a viable option either.
My best piece of advice when dealing with haters is this process:
1. Ask yourself if this person's comment/action is something that is mean (intentionally or unintentionally) or is it actually productive criticism.
2. If it's mean, move to 2A. If it's actually the hard truth that you needed to hear, but didn't want to hear, move on to 2B.
2A. Take a moment before reacting to this mean comment. This is hard. Probably the hardest part of the whole process. Think about what part of you, physically or emotionally is being attack. Move to 3.
2B. Thank the person you are talking with for having the hard conversation with you. Brainstorm ways to move forward with the criticism you received.
3. If this is something you can correct with kindness: if my friend says wow, I love your jeans, they really make your butt look smaller. Instead of being pissed she called my butt fat, I could say, "thanks, Stacy. Your hair looks great today" and hope that, eventually, she gets sick of sounding like a jerk when I come off sounding kind. If this is something you cannot correct with kindness, move on to step 4.
4. This is when it gets real. These are usually the worst hater attacks. These are the things we can't brush off as easily. Example: Someone tells me, "Erin, you would be a much better person if you spent less time running and more time praying." Or "Erin, there's no way you can support gay rights and not go to hell." These things don't brush off easily, because they are me. I run because it's my religion and I feel it makes me a better person. I do support and love every person, no matter who they are/what they believe/who they love/where they come from. To these haters, my best advice is to say, "take me for who I am, or leave me. Love me like I love you, treat me how you want to be treated, or buzz off and mind your own business."
We are all different because our differences are what make us interesting. Our differences are what help us challenge one another and help each other grow. Love who you are, be proud of who you are, and if anyone tells you differently, take a moment to remind yourself that haters are gonna hate. Then tell all the haters, if they don't have anything nice to say to you, don't bother saying anything at all. You are better than their drama, their judgment, their meanness. Nobody's got time for haters.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
I did it. I finished Run Rabbit Run 50 miles again. Last year I did not get an official time although I finished (see my previous blog post about how it all went), this year, I conquered the mountain in the time allowed. I'll do like last year and break things down by section.
Start to Mount Werner: This is one of the worst parts of the race. And it's the very beginning. 6.4 miles all uphill, all switchbacks. You gain 3,900 feet in elevation. I had a headache. But** unlike last year, I had my buddy Cade with me. Last year I followed a group that ran the wrong way. Like literally crossed the start line in the wrong direction. This year, Cade was there to lead me. We met other friends. Last year was my first year running Run Rabbit, and I was one of maybe 50 people who raised their hands when asked if it was their first 50 miler. This year, well over half of the race was first time 50 milers. Way freaking cool.
Mount Werner to Long Lake: This part of the trail is mostly runable, meaning lots of downhills and flats, not so much hiking. It's single track--so narrow and technical (lots of rocks and roots to navigate)--and mostly sneaky downhill. I love this part of the race but hate it with a fiery passion because I know how horrible it is on the way back. This is the longest section between aid stations--6.8 miles. This year I was far better trained. I packed breakfast burritos. I slammed one here. I was not going to let not eating hit me like it did last year.
Long Lake to Base Camp: Lovely section. Also mostly runable. Cade and I caught up with his wife Molly, my most wonderful friend who got me to do this race (some crazy friend huh?). She was having a rough day and Cade wasn't feeling well either so they decided to stick together. I had to go on alone. Last year I was only alone for one section (the long one mentioned above on the way back) and I went to a dark, dark place. I'm pretty sure a piece of my soul got left between Long Lake and Mount Werner last year. This time, however, I didn't mind being alone. Long Lake to Base Camp is pretty. You travel over streams, across meadows, and through the forest. This section is around 5 miles long.
Base Camp to Dumont: I felt so good here. I knew my family was waiting for me at Dumont. My mom, aunts Linda and Karla, boyfriend, and grandpa had all come out to support me. Telling myself they were there helped me go harder. When they saw me, they cheered and jumped and hugged me and reminded me why I run--to be a better person, to be a person that my family is proud of. And not proud of because of the miles I can run, but because of what running does to my work ethic, my spirit, and the way it clears my head. I'd really probably be a jerk if I didn't run.
Dumont to Rabbit Ears: This part is hard. You have to go 3ish miles up the mountain to touch Rabbit Ears, a rock formation for which the race, and a pass along the mountain, is named. It's steep, like crawling up and down steep--last year I slid down on my butt. It's above the tree line. I hated myself ever step I took up toward that stupid rock but damn it if I didn't touch it and forget all those awful thoughts. I touched the rock, knew I was half way, and practically skipped down the mountain back to Dumont. I hugged my family one more time and knew it would be hours before I saw them again. Molly and Cade were at Dumont. They had decided to drop from the race. They both hugged me, lectured me on salt and eating, and told me they'd see me at the finish line.
If you're going to drop out of this race, Dumont is the place to do it. It's the only place where someone can take you back down the mountain. I look at Dumont as no turning back. Miles 22ish and 28ish.
Dumont to Base Camp: Well, it wouldn't be a race for me if I didn't go the wrong way once. I had to pee, stopped, got disoriented, ran the wrong way, found a buddy, found our way back to the path and carried on. I proceeded to pass my buddy and go it alone.
Base Camp to Long Lake: Everything on my body felt good. I felt strong and knew I was far better trained this year than last. Last year I didn't know what to expect. I was totally ready to run 50 miles, but had done little hiking training. Stupid. This year, I was ready to hike the ups, run the downs and the flats. I trained in the humidity, the closest thing I could do to get ready for the altitude. My best running buddies Yadi and John were real troopers going out to the trails for 3-6 hours 1-2 days every weekend. Last year I had also done a half Ironman 6 weeks before Run Rabbit. Stupid. This year I did my last tri the last weekend in June so that I was prepared to take 2 months to train for RRR. Smart. I was alone again, but doing well.
Long Lake to Mount Werner: Oh, this cursed section. Last year this was the only place where I was alone. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was lost and that I would have to lie down and freeze to death or be eaten by a bear. Or be shot by a hunter. The only thing getting me through was knowing that my mom was waiting for me. This time I knew to expect this. I also knew half of my family was waiting for me. I passed a few groups of people. My left butt cheek was starting to kill me and running felt way better than hiking and walking. I thought about my friends Michael and Jake that I made last year at RRR. I missed them. I wondered if they were doing the race again this year. I caught up to a group at the last 2 miles of this section and decided to stay with them. I could tell I was starting to go to a dark place. Then we heard the glorious, heavenly ringing of the bell at Mount Werner. I could have kissed that bell ringer.
Mount Werner to Finish: This year I had plenty of clothes and light but I didn't need it at the start of my descent. I started down with a girl named Sharon. This was her first 50 mile, and we needed each other to finish. We were both running down the mountain fairly well. The thing that propelled us was our conversation and each other's company. Your family can take the gondola up the ski mountain and meet you at mile 46. My aunts, mom, and John were all there cheering. They had been singing songs from The Sound of Music and playing cards--you know, what my family does best: show tunes, cards, and laughing. We didn't know what kind of condition I would be in when I met them so we'd planned on all going down together. Since running felt better than walking (left butt cheek probs), I had to keep running. John joined Sharon and me which we were a million times thankful for. John is the most wonderful talker in situations where you just want to listen and let someone else talk. As we zig zagged down the switchbacks, we could hear my mom and aunts giggling above us. John, Sharon, and I crossed the finish line together. We even had kick enough left for a faster run to the finish line. I will be ever thankful to Sharon and her companionship down the mountain. That's why I do this race. I've done road races and triathlons all over the country, but never have I ever experienced anything like I've felt when I've finished this race--be it last year when our group vowed not to let anyone finish last or this year when Sharon and I hugged and knew we'd helped one another finish something that 99.9% of people will never even dream of starting. I love Run Rabbit Run. Last year I finished in 15 hours and 31 minutes. This year I finished in 14 hours and 13 minutes.
On our way home back to Omaha from Steamboat, John and I signed up for a 50K in southeastern Nebraska. I can't even tell you how excited I am for us to take this on together. Hopefully this will be the final finger tap he needs to sign up for Run Rabbit Run next year. I know I'll be there again. It seems I agree with Molly and Cade that this day is the greatest day of the year, yes, better than Thanksgiving.
Hugs and lots of love. My next short story is coming out this month! Stay tuned!
Start to Mount Werner: This is one of the worst parts of the race. And it's the very beginning. 6.4 miles all uphill, all switchbacks. You gain 3,900 feet in elevation. I had a headache. But** unlike last year, I had my buddy Cade with me. Last year I followed a group that ran the wrong way. Like literally crossed the start line in the wrong direction. This year, Cade was there to lead me. We met other friends. Last year was my first year running Run Rabbit, and I was one of maybe 50 people who raised their hands when asked if it was their first 50 miler. This year, well over half of the race was first time 50 milers. Way freaking cool.
Mount Werner to Long Lake: This part of the trail is mostly runable, meaning lots of downhills and flats, not so much hiking. It's single track--so narrow and technical (lots of rocks and roots to navigate)--and mostly sneaky downhill. I love this part of the race but hate it with a fiery passion because I know how horrible it is on the way back. This is the longest section between aid stations--6.8 miles. This year I was far better trained. I packed breakfast burritos. I slammed one here. I was not going to let not eating hit me like it did last year.
Long Lake to Base Camp: Lovely section. Also mostly runable. Cade and I caught up with his wife Molly, my most wonderful friend who got me to do this race (some crazy friend huh?). She was having a rough day and Cade wasn't feeling well either so they decided to stick together. I had to go on alone. Last year I was only alone for one section (the long one mentioned above on the way back) and I went to a dark, dark place. I'm pretty sure a piece of my soul got left between Long Lake and Mount Werner last year. This time, however, I didn't mind being alone. Long Lake to Base Camp is pretty. You travel over streams, across meadows, and through the forest. This section is around 5 miles long.
Base Camp to Dumont: I felt so good here. I knew my family was waiting for me at Dumont. My mom, aunts Linda and Karla, boyfriend, and grandpa had all come out to support me. Telling myself they were there helped me go harder. When they saw me, they cheered and jumped and hugged me and reminded me why I run--to be a better person, to be a person that my family is proud of. And not proud of because of the miles I can run, but because of what running does to my work ethic, my spirit, and the way it clears my head. I'd really probably be a jerk if I didn't run.
Dumont to Rabbit Ears: This part is hard. You have to go 3ish miles up the mountain to touch Rabbit Ears, a rock formation for which the race, and a pass along the mountain, is named. It's steep, like crawling up and down steep--last year I slid down on my butt. It's above the tree line. I hated myself ever step I took up toward that stupid rock but damn it if I didn't touch it and forget all those awful thoughts. I touched the rock, knew I was half way, and practically skipped down the mountain back to Dumont. I hugged my family one more time and knew it would be hours before I saw them again. Molly and Cade were at Dumont. They had decided to drop from the race. They both hugged me, lectured me on salt and eating, and told me they'd see me at the finish line.
If you're going to drop out of this race, Dumont is the place to do it. It's the only place where someone can take you back down the mountain. I look at Dumont as no turning back. Miles 22ish and 28ish.
Dumont to Base Camp: Well, it wouldn't be a race for me if I didn't go the wrong way once. I had to pee, stopped, got disoriented, ran the wrong way, found a buddy, found our way back to the path and carried on. I proceeded to pass my buddy and go it alone.
Base Camp to Long Lake: Everything on my body felt good. I felt strong and knew I was far better trained this year than last. Last year I didn't know what to expect. I was totally ready to run 50 miles, but had done little hiking training. Stupid. This year, I was ready to hike the ups, run the downs and the flats. I trained in the humidity, the closest thing I could do to get ready for the altitude. My best running buddies Yadi and John were real troopers going out to the trails for 3-6 hours 1-2 days every weekend. Last year I had also done a half Ironman 6 weeks before Run Rabbit. Stupid. This year I did my last tri the last weekend in June so that I was prepared to take 2 months to train for RRR. Smart. I was alone again, but doing well.
Long Lake to Mount Werner: Oh, this cursed section. Last year this was the only place where I was alone. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was lost and that I would have to lie down and freeze to death or be eaten by a bear. Or be shot by a hunter. The only thing getting me through was knowing that my mom was waiting for me. This time I knew to expect this. I also knew half of my family was waiting for me. I passed a few groups of people. My left butt cheek was starting to kill me and running felt way better than hiking and walking. I thought about my friends Michael and Jake that I made last year at RRR. I missed them. I wondered if they were doing the race again this year. I caught up to a group at the last 2 miles of this section and decided to stay with them. I could tell I was starting to go to a dark place. Then we heard the glorious, heavenly ringing of the bell at Mount Werner. I could have kissed that bell ringer.
Mount Werner to Finish: This year I had plenty of clothes and light but I didn't need it at the start of my descent. I started down with a girl named Sharon. This was her first 50 mile, and we needed each other to finish. We were both running down the mountain fairly well. The thing that propelled us was our conversation and each other's company. Your family can take the gondola up the ski mountain and meet you at mile 46. My aunts, mom, and John were all there cheering. They had been singing songs from The Sound of Music and playing cards--you know, what my family does best: show tunes, cards, and laughing. We didn't know what kind of condition I would be in when I met them so we'd planned on all going down together. Since running felt better than walking (left butt cheek probs), I had to keep running. John joined Sharon and me which we were a million times thankful for. John is the most wonderful talker in situations where you just want to listen and let someone else talk. As we zig zagged down the switchbacks, we could hear my mom and aunts giggling above us. John, Sharon, and I crossed the finish line together. We even had kick enough left for a faster run to the finish line. I will be ever thankful to Sharon and her companionship down the mountain. That's why I do this race. I've done road races and triathlons all over the country, but never have I ever experienced anything like I've felt when I've finished this race--be it last year when our group vowed not to let anyone finish last or this year when Sharon and I hugged and knew we'd helped one another finish something that 99.9% of people will never even dream of starting. I love Run Rabbit Run. Last year I finished in 15 hours and 31 minutes. This year I finished in 14 hours and 13 minutes.
On our way home back to Omaha from Steamboat, John and I signed up for a 50K in southeastern Nebraska. I can't even tell you how excited I am for us to take this on together. Hopefully this will be the final finger tap he needs to sign up for Run Rabbit Run next year. I know I'll be there again. It seems I agree with Molly and Cade that this day is the greatest day of the year, yes, better than Thanksgiving.
Hugs and lots of love. My next short story is coming out this month! Stay tuned!
 |
| Squad |
 |
| Rabbit Ears. I touched that rock! |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)