I am a terrible runner.
This is what I told myself for years and years. I am slow, have no endurance, and I’m just not a runner.
Until I decided I wanted to be.
I remember so vividly the first time I ran an entire mile without stopping, in the break neck speed of 12 minutes. I stopped as I finished my mile, nearly fell over dead, and cried tears of exhaustion, happiness, and pride.
I felt like that again the first time I ran a half marathon. And the next one. And the next one. And every mile since.
We are what we tell ourselves. I told myself and believed that I was a terrible runner for most of my life. And do you know how I got good at it? (Good being a VERY relative term…) By doing it anyway. By slogging through 12 minute miles until they became 8 minute miles. Aaaaand then when they went back to 10 minute miles after having babies. By running when I didn’t want to, by continually trying to compete with the only competition that really matters- myself. I even trained for my first half marathon by leading a half marathon training group, which really felt like the blind leading the blind, but we did it! All of us! This terrible runner has turned into a pretty decent runner. Because I kept running.
I am a terrible cook.
I called my mom from my apartment in college, frantically begging for her help saving the chicken I’d thrown in a skillet, that was still frozen on the inside and burned to a crisp on the outside. I remember the first dinner I ever made for my husband- Hamburger Helper. And I was SO proud of that slop. We invited a couple of Cary’s friends over for dinner who probably would have happily eaten cereal, and I was still sweating bullets. I remember so clearly this absolutely terrible tortilla stack concoction I made that involved cream of something soup and canned chicken. I was SO proud of that slop too. Now I have a binder stuffed to the gills with amazing recipes I’ve found or developed and take pride in fattening up everyone I know with delicious treats and meals. This terrible cook has turned into a pretty decent cook. Because I kept cooking.
I am a terrible blogger.
For those keeping score at home, this would be my 4th blog I’ve ever started. I’ve written daily, monthly, and most recently, about bi-annually. My most loyal readers are related to me, and by all accounts, I have no business starting a blog about 10 years late to the blogging game. I don’t have any real authority on beauty, cooking, baking, lettering, mom-ing, or really anything. I’m a “jack of trades, master of none.” (Get it? Like my blog name! Eh? Eh?) This terrible blogger wants to turn into a good blogger. How? Because I’m going to keep blogging.
What’s holding you back from doing what you’ve always wanted to do? Being bad at it? Well then! Be bad at it! Laugh at yourself, and then go be bad at it some more. Keep running and writing and cooking and trying. Turn that quasi-edible Hamburger Helper into the best smoked ribs and brag about making the best cookies in the world and be grateful for every complete culinary disaster along the way.
The irony of this is that I really don’t like how my block letters turned out. But I’m keeping them as a reminder of where I am right now, and where I know I want to be.
Click on the image for a printable PDF. Put it somewhere where you’ll see it every day and remember that being bad at something is just the beginning of being great at something.
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