The tree in my front yard froze and snapped in half. My rental house was about a year old when another biblical winter storm blew in and froze everything. Since the house was new, so was the tree. The summer before we were in a drought and my roommate and I didn’t bother with watering the grass. Our next door neighbor did, but their yard looked the same as ours. We figured using the sprinkler system was a waste of water and money so we turned it off. We didn’t think about watering the tree.
Our sad little oak shriveled, the leaves turned brown before fall and one gusty day all of them blew off. We figured it was dead, but wanted to wait for spring to see if it just went dormant to save itself. Right before the brunt of winter, we noticed little branches sprouting from the base. Also the twigs were still pliable and didn’t snap when you bent them so that was a good sign it was still alive.
Then the freeze happened. On Monday the news saw it coming, so halfway into the day, schools were already saying they would shut down the next day. Some already canceled for Wednesday as well. By the end of the day we knew we had at least the next day off and were keeping an ear out for the rest of the week.
Tuesday the ice set in. Weak rain and freezing temperatures coated everything with what looked like clear glass. Trees started to bend under the weight including our struggling sapling in the front yard.
I spent the day in my robe watching movies, drinking coffee, and hot chocolate. By the afternoon we got news Wednesday would be canceled as well. Our tree was bent so much the top was resting on the ground. We could see trees in our neighbor's’ yard doing the same. All of them saplings of about the same size bent like a drawn bow.
Wednesday the power went out. The temperature dropped further. An inch of solid ice coated the streets. Everything outside no longer looked glistening wet, it looked frozen now by white ice.
My roommate and I set up camp floodlights in the living room. I sat a digital thermometer on a coffee table and watched the numbers drop a degree about every hour. We were able to warm up food on the gas stove and boil water for coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. I was also halfway into a bottle of whiskey.
In the dark, drunk, watching the temperature drop, my thoughts turned to the upcoming race. It had already been 2 days without working out, and school would be canceled for 2 more. My back was already hurting from sitting on my bed and watching movies the day before. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t go to bootcamp. I couldn’t shop for groceries but what I had would last the week if needed.
Confined, bored, still. There were only a few things to keep my mind and body occupied. I knew my kids were safe in their home with their mother and grandmother. I knew I was safe regardless of how the weather turned. I knew my friends and loved ones were all just as safe and bored as I was, but in my safety my thoughts turned dark and ominous just like the mountain in West Texas that waited for me in a month’s time. Those words a few weeks ago hung still above my head “When will you be enough?”
Enough for what? Enough for who? What was enough? How will I know? Am I enough for my fellow sword fighters who look up to me and celebrate my wins? Am I enough for my coworkers who compliment me and are thankful I work with them? Am I enough for the people I work out with who try everyday and watch as I lead the pack and run my ridiculous races? Am I enough for my children? My daughter runs to me when I go over to their house. Are the few hours I see them after school and some weekends enough for them to understand what I want for them? Is my time enough for them?
Will the race be enough? Will attempting 100 miles be enough for me to have a sense of accomplishment? Will it be enough for me to stop? How much is enough…
But then I found myself asking the wrong question again: “What will be enough?”
Our tree snapped in half, like the millions of other trees in central Texas because of the ice storm. The next morning, as I rose from a huddled sleep, I looked out at the frozen streets. Our tree broke where it was bending. What little hope we had for the tree to bounce back was now gone. It was dead, broken. Its small trunk splintered and jagged.
* * * * *
Two weeks later I competed in another tournament. It was a three day event in California. From the moment I walked into the AirB&B there were magical omens surrounding me. There were crystals and petrified wood in my bedroom. Posters of favorite books and authors on the walls. The first day of the tournament I didn’t complete, only attended seminars and talks. The second day was more or the same but I met some of my secret idols and celebrities. I did some sparring and the weapon I won in October broke. It was disappointing, but I’m glad it happened then instead of during the competition. I also had my original sword so I knew I could compete with that. That night we watched the sunset on the beach, reconnected with old friends, made new ones.
The last day was my only day of competition. I had such a great time the whole weekend I almost didn’t want to compete. I was afraid my performance or the judging or something out of my control would ruin the end of such a great time.
I won Bronze in the largest HEMA tournament to date.
Again, as I did in the January tournament when I got 3rd overall, I felt satisfied. I didn’t feel any of my matches were contested, the judging was as good as it could’ve been. I tried my best, I was focused, dialed in. I won 3rd place and it was enough.
That was the last event before the 100 mile. My mindset was changing from “What will be enough?” to “Am I enough?” How many more competitions did I need to place in before I was satisfied? How many more miles?
After my Bronze in January and my Bronze in February, I felt like it was enough. I didn't know what else I needed to prove but I was still on a path to prove something.
My greatest fear was injury, or something happening or coming up to derail the race. The closer it got the more nervous I got. I wouldn’t be able to relax until I was running the course. My body was sounding alarms with weird pains. I had trouble sleeping.
I was bending, scraping the ground. I didn’t want to break like the tree in our front yard.
And the path, dear reader, and the thaw, continues next time…
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