Caught in between

​Running has been my anchor for the last 15 years. And with that, OUTRUNCANCER has been its lifeblood, that made me feel invincible, contributing to something larger than myself, carrying the weight of the world while simultaneously exposing me to a world of opportunities.

OUTRUNCANCER has been more than just a mission; it has been my identity. It pushed me beyond my comfort zones, introduced me to amazing people, and made me a part of a community striving for a common goal: make a dent in the world. However, with COVID, OUTRUNCANCER took a hit from which we have not recovered. Something I am reminded of every day I wear my neon green tshirts, or walk into my home office with the OUTRUNCANCER mission statement on every wall. 

This new reality has left me at a crossroads, struggling with an internal conflict that wears me down each day. Part of me, the stubborn part, clings to what once was, refusing to let go. The other part, the pragmatic one, whispers that it might be time for change, for something new. And so, the conflict continues.

Intellectually, I know what the right thing to do is - dust myself off, take the risk, maybe even start anew. Yet, my heart hesitates. It feels like a betrayal, like I'm abandoning a cause I've poured my heart and soul into. But the fear of the unknown, the fear of failing again - they weigh me down. And so, the loop continues.

However, in the quiet moments of introspection, I feel a spark. A spark of new ambition, of a desire to stretch myself beyond what I've done before, to commit myself to something that demands even more from me than OUTRUNCANCER ever did.

But am I ready? Ready to lean into this new ambition? Ready to let go of the past to make way for what could be? Does leaning into something new mean I have to give up what I've achieved in the meantime – a stable home, some financial comfort, a chance to breathe, and nights of peaceful sleep?
And why, suddenly, do these things matter when they never used to? Whose reflection am I trying to live up to? 
It's an outpour of questions, adding to the loop of my internal struggle.

But as the saying goes, "A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for." 
I know I'm built for more. 
I know I'm built to navigate the stormy seas, to chart a new course. 
It's a daunting prospect. Is it one I'm ready to face?