فصل 20

CHAPTER 20

The Lie

I NEED A HERO

At least one of my chapters should have the same title as a classic eighties song, right? Come on, don’t pretend you don’t remember that scene in Footloose where they battle each other on the back of a combine. It’s epic. It also has nothing to do with this next subject, but I love to remember Kevin Bacon’s illustrious film career whenever possible.

Speaking of bacon . . .

I was a little chubby as a child.

And not that one necessarily tied in with the other (or maybe it did), but I also wasn’t what anyone would call “athletic.” I was the president of the drama club, a preteen who stayed in Girl Scouts long after it was cool, a card-carrying member of the FFA. That’s the Future Farmers of America, for any of you who didn’t grow up in God’s country.

I tried on a few sports for size. One awkward year I somehow made it onto my high school tennis team . . . but my only real memory of that season is the tennis pictures we took, where I had a big hole in my sock that I didn’t notice until the pictures came out. So much for enticing boys with wallet-sized pics of me in my sister’s hand-me-down tartan skirt.

I was never more than mediocre at any sort of sport, and honestly, I didn’t really mind. We all have our gifts, and mine are far, far removed from the athletic field.

Then, years ago when I was pregnant with our third son, Dave trained and ran a half marathon. I know what you’re thinking because I was definitely thinking it too. What kind of monster decides to get in epic shape for the first time while his wife is the size of one of those tiny homes on HGTV?

Dave Hollis, that’s who!

He looked so good and had so much energy, and I was so jealous I could spit! While running long distance wasn’t something I had ever aspired to do, the fact that I couldn’t do it because of my swollen belly irked me.

The next year when he planned to run that same race again, I jumped on board. The joke is, if you’d have asked me at any point in my life before then, I would’ve happily told you how much I hated running. But while I might not be an athlete, I am competitive. I wanted to prove to myself I could run thirteen miles without dying . . . just as he had done. I wanted to prove to our boys that daddies and mommies can be strong and powerful. I also sort of wanted to see if I was actually lacking in athletic prowess or if maybe that was just something I had always believed about myself.

So I started training for a half marathon—which, if you’re curious, is like running in sand while wearing a backpack full of pudding.

Everything is hard. Everything feels awkward. Every single new mile makes you want to puke. But I didn’t give up, and slowly—so stinking slowly—I got stronger and better, one quarter-mile at a time.

As it turns out, I’m actually a really good long-distance runner. I have short little legs, so Dave (or basically anyone) can beat me in a sprint all day long. But here’s the deal very few people (and I can say this confidently) can mind-over-matter themselves as well as I can. I’ve lived through fifty-two hours of labor. I’ve built a company from the ground up using street-smarts and the cash from my day job. I’ve built my life on not giving up on the goals I set for myself. So if I say I’m going to run thirteen miles, I am darn well going to run thirteen miles!

That means when mile six hits and Dave wants to quit and start walking, I fly right past him, tortoise-and-the-hare style.

The very first half marathon I ever signed up for was a Disney race. As a sidenote, please, please, please do yourself a favor and make it a life goal to run in a Disney race! They have 5Ks, 10Ks, and half marathons, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something so uplifting and fun. It’s important to note the fun element because I walked into the race that morning so afraid of how hard it was going to be that I thought I would barf. But at a Disney race, there’s too much magic to barf!

The races take place inside and around the parks, so you’re running by rides and princesses and floats. Other runners are dressed as Disney characters and stopping for photos along the way . . . and it’s just joyful.

Also, having run in other half marathons many times since, I can tell you that the encouragement in these races is unmatched. There is something incredibly touching about thousands upon thousands of people coming together to run toward a common goal. There were people in wheelchairs and others who were severely overweight. There were people who were eighty-five years old and young babies being pushed in strollers. There were pregnant women, you guys! Freaking beautiful, in-shape, pregnant women who were running over ten miles with a full belly. I was in awe! Everywhere I turned I saw people actively challenging themselves to be something better—and it was a beauty to behold. We were one giant, sweaty mass of hope, made up of people from all walks of life who’d dreamed this dream and found themselves on the road together.

With that many people, it takes a while to make your way to the start of the line, but when my queue was called up, they started playing “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes” from Cinderella over the loudspeakers. I know it sounds cheesy in the retelling, but, y’all, I was bawling by the time it was my turn to run. I kept thinking, This is a wish my heart made! And for once I didn’t beg off or get lazy or stop trying . . . I did it!

Running thirteen miles is really tough, and later, when I trained and ran my first full marathon, I thought I was going to die.

Straight. Up. Die.

Sometimes within the race I’d see a mile marker and take a selfie of me leaping across to show how great I was feeling. Other times it took everything I had to put one foot in front of the other. But it was during that first half marathon—mile eleven, to be exact—that I struggled the most. I kept scrolling through my iPod to find a song that would fire me up, because by that point I’d listened to or skipped over every tune I had. I landed on “I Need a Hero” by Bonnie Tyler . . . I love me some eighties music, and this one gets me going every time. It did the trick. I was feeling a little better and picking up my pace as I started to sing along with Bonnie . . .

“I need a hero . . .”

As any child of the eighties knows, the whole song is about her looking for a man, a hero, a “streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds,” and there I was singing along at the end of mile eleven when I had one of the biggest epiphanies of my adult life

I don’t need to find anyone. Right now, in this moment, I’m my own hero.

It was a profound realization in my life. I had pushed myself to do something I never thought I could be capable of, and it lit a fire within my own soul. Nobody forced me to put in those miles. Nobody woke me up in the morning and made me research the right shoes or which GU packets were least disgusting. Nobody else got the sunburns or the blisters or saved up to pay the entrance fee.

That was all me.

And the things you’ve achieved? The big and little stuff that peppers your life and adds flavor, the achievements that have made you who you are—those are all you.

I heard once that every author has a theme, and they basically just write the same message over and over in each book despite the plot or the characters. This is absolutely my truth, even if I was totally oblivious to it at the time.

Every book I’ve ever written is based on this core theme of my life. It’s the lesson I’ve learned over and over again, so it inevitably weaves its way into my stories—and this book especially.

It is the gift I wish I could give every person I know.

It is the thing I wish someone had taught me as a child. Instead, I had to navigate life and figure it out on my own.

It is the greatest lesson I have to give you.

Only you have the power to change your life.

This is the truth. I ran an entire marathon with Philippians 413 written on my hand in Sharpie, and I believe that my Creator is the strength by which I achieve anything. But God, your partner, your mama, and your best friends—none of them can make you into something (good or bad) without your help.

You have the ability to change your life. You’ve always had the power, Dorothy. You just have to stop waiting for someone else to do it for you. There is no easy way out of this; there is no life hack. Just you and your God-given strength and how much you desire change.

I hope, pray, wish, cross my fingers and my toes that you will look around and find an opportunity to be your own hero. Every woman should feel that kind of pride, but if you’re seeking change you shouldn’t just want that for yourself, you should need it. You need to set a goal for yourself and then work your butt off to get there. I don’t care if that goal is to pay off your credit card or lose ten pounds or run an Iron Man. You need to make a move right now while you’re still on fire from this book about what goal you’re setting for yourself. Then you need to go do it. You need to prove to yourself that you can do it. You need to prove to yourself that you are capable of anything you set your mind to.

You have the power.

You, exhausted mother of three who’s considering heading back to work but is afraid she’s been out of the loop too long. You, fifty pounds overweight and conscious that your health is in jeopardy if you don’t make drastic changes. You, in your early twenties who wants love but gives away your body in order to feel connection and instead only feels emptier. You, who wants better relationships with the people you love but can’t let go of your anger in order to get there. You, all of you, any of you. Stop waiting for someone else to fix your life! Stop assuming that someday it will magically improve on its own. Stop presuming that if you only had the right job, the right man, the right house, the right car, the right whatever that your life will become what you’ve always dreamed of. Be honest about who you are and what you need to do to make change.

Girl, get ahold of your life. Stop medicating, stop hiding out, stop being afraid, stop giving away pieces of yourself, stop saying you can’t do it. Stop the negative self-talk, stop abusing your body, stop putting it off for tomorrow or Monday or next year. Stop crying about what happened and take control of what happens next. Get up, right now. Rise up from where you’ve been, scrub away the tears and the pain of yesterday, and start again . . . Girl, wash your face!