And I was wondering: How the hell had I ended up here? I felt a complete fraud, with nothing in common with all these enthusiastic jocks and jockettes. The choices that brought me here had made sense at the time, and upon reflection still seemed to stand true.
The ironies were not lost on me. They are not lost on me still. One of the most authentic aspects of myself, the meditative runner, had spawned this persona of sporting goods queen. The Jog Bra Lady. It follows me to this day.
The further irony being that I could no longer be that runner—two bad knees that no surgery could fix. No activity—not body surfing, not walking—fulfilled me as running did. I miss it to this day.
But then I read an article that purported that many who gain rapid success feel “like a fraud;” believing that somehow they are pulling off an illusion that could be “found out” by others. I know I felt that way, especially in those early Jogbra years—I wasn’t a jock! I didn’t run in races! Then, I wasn’t even a runner anymore! Egad!
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