ADHD, motherhood, and can I really do hard things?

And do I want to?

Running is a lot like writing. Putting one foot, one word in front of the other, quieting the mind.

I have a secret: Running doesn’t feel as good as it used to.

As part of my commitment to “making someday, today,” I’ve started training for a marathon. Not a half — a full marathon. That’s 26.2 miles, on foot, just to clarify.

Running has always been a release for me. A form of exercise that gives to me more than it takes. Something about the rhythmic, repetitive act of putting one foot in front of the other, getting lost in my music, the quieting of my brain.

But I’m older now, my body less agile, my limbs heavier. Every step feels like kicking anvils down a track. Yet, somehow I’m more fragile. My body having been through two births and a near decade of aging and stagnation since my “running days”, I feel weak, precarious. Like one wrong move or insufficient stretch could mean an ankle, a shin, a sciatic nerve. And I’m toast.

Did you know the marathon originated from a Greek guy who dropped dead after running 26 miles from Marathon to Athens to announce the Greek victory over Persia in 490 BC? Dead.

Pheidippides dropped dead after running “the first marathon”. Photo source: Marathon Handbook

Running now, my knee bones feel simultaneously loose yet clenched. They grind on one another like I imagine God’s teeth doing as he wrings his hands at my obtuseness. “I thought we learned our lesson, Liz. Why are you still striving? What are you still trying to prove?”

…………………………………

It’s been a few weeks since the flurry of activity around Glennon Doyle’s entrance into and then turnabout exit from the world of Substack. Whether you’re a Glennon fan or not — regardless of your take on her Substack stint — it’s hard to deny the power of her persona. She coined a useful saying, a now household mantra, intended to inspire. She even named a book and her podcast after it: We Can Do Hard Things.

This affirmation is meant to guide people as they face the inevitable challenges of life. But what about those of us who go looking for “hard”? [Insert Woozy Face Emoji].

Getting my ADHD diagnosis nearly three years ago gave me permission to slow down. It brought me self-acceptance and the ability to shed **some of** my profound need for external validation. So, I’m very cautious when it comes to striving. I want to avoid old patterns, ignore the voices in my head that tell me I need to prove myself through productivity and achievement. I’m also wary of potentially trying to fill a hole where a third baby might have been. “I am enough,” I say.

And yet…

The need to do this… the desire to toil… is strong. It’s a pull I can’t ignore.

On the other hand, I am trying to lean into the natural part of me that needs something to strive for. I’ve written about it before… the ADHD “itch” that keeps us seeking the next “thing”, enabling us to be the ultimate consumers of life. As writer Robert Louis Stevenson said, “Keep busy at something: a busy person never has time to be unhappy.” And there is proof that staying busy is good for people with ADHD. It actually diminishes our symptoms. Perhaps striving is the best thing for us, as long as we’re doing it for the right reasons (why does this sound like a cheesy line from The Bachelor?).

I wonder if Robert Louis Stevenson also had ADHD? Graphic source: QuoteFancy.com

It’s June, and my training plan runs through October. That means I’ll be training all summer, the days will certainly get hotter, thicker. My runs, sweatier as the distances grow longer. I will be tired, sore and almost guaranteed an all-day migraine post-run. I have ADHD which means planning for this will be harder for me. It might mean getting caught having to run at lunch in the heat of the day. It might mean having to get up early… okay, yeah right.

(Shoutout to my good friend Stella, who is not only my running accountability partner but also a great supporter of my writing! Thank you!)

This is going to be hard.

But maybe that’s what makes it worthwhile.

Running is a lot like writing, after all. It isn’t always pretty. I don’t always feel like doing it. There’s the enthusiastic start, the murky middle, the self-doubt of ‘can I actually do this?’, the mind-f*ck when you feel so close to yet so far from the finish line, the need to tame your mind and discipline your habits.

Writing, like running, is another release for me. Another rhythmic, repetitive act of putting one word in front of another, getting lost in my music, the quieting of my brain.

I’ve been “writing my book” for nearly a decade [Insert Eye Roll Emoji]. And by “my book” I mean several that I keep starting and stopping and pivoting among. This run — this 26.2-mile-long side quest — has the dangerous potential to be another way to avoid writing my book(s). But it also feels like a way to prove to myself that I can.

Only 0.01% of the global population has ever run a marathon. Meanwhile, 0.10% has written a book.

I may never cross either finish line, but I’m committed to trying. And odds are, if I can do this — if I can run this run — I can do that, too.

And I do want to… even though it’s going to be hard.

What are you striving for?