AHA MOMENT # 3
(HOW TO STOP, BUT THEN START AGAIN)

life can bring through many changes
just don’t give up
it’s gonna be alright
people come and they go
it’s just the way it goes
everything is everything
its alright…
~ Ledisi

Sometimes it is okay to turn around and go back. And there are times, literally, that you have to “cut and run—” backwards. This revelation came to me while running on Friday. See, on Monday, I got drenched during my workout; if only I had turned around...

The afternoon sky was full of bright, fluffy, non-threatening clouds that looked like pillows almost too good to sleep on. And a nap was in order once I completed my very tardy run (bad, lazy soldier!). It was noon already and half past scorching hot, but I needed to tackle some fitness demons—small hills and lunges, or Iron Mikes. Both are about mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it don’t matter. And since I had a lot on my mind, this workout was necessary.

About two months ago, I began stopping at a nearby recreation center halfway along my route to jump rope, and get in some Iron Mikes. It took a while to get used to this, because I felt that stopping, was resting, or cheating. Moreover, I was scared that if I stopped, I would not start again. Starting, stopping, and starting again has never been easy for me. I explained to someone recently, that I’m an “all or nothing” kinda person.

Again, it’s hot as hell, and now I’m a little thirsty (forgot my canteen). Nevertheless, I pause my run, and began exercising while intermittingly directing the choir as Mariah Carrey’s “Fly Like A Bird” blasted in my ears. After 20 minutes, I glance up at the sky. A few more clouds had gathered and appeared to be forming a tight affront, but no big “whoop.” I stretch again and wiped a few tears from my eyes because Mariah puts the “B” in “A & B” solo (if you don’t know, ask a southern Baptist Fire-Baptized Pentecostal and they’ll explain it to you).

I began a moderate-paced run back to the house. After half a block, I feel a few sprinkles. Still, not a big deal; however, in a flash, the rain became quite steady. A sane person would have considered going back to the recreation center shelter. But the last three years have been everything except sane for me, nor has anything made much sense—multiple, devastating deaths in my family, my tires getting jacked off my car as it sat outside my window, and an accident on the job that could have killed me and the passengers on my vehicle. Some would say that’s just “life,” yet it seemed to happen all at one time.

So I trudged on believing this rain was a symbolic cleansing or benediction of sorts to my spiritual workout. I kept my stride, undaunted, even when the sky completely opened up and it started raining like a—you get the idea…

By the second block, it became crystal clear I had made a mistake. I could not see a damn thing. Sweat mixed with rain stung my eyes. Making matters worse, was my cell phone, glued to my hip. All day I had been anxiously awaiting a call; the last thing I could afford was for that to stop working. I quickly tucked the case inside my already soaked shorts.

Now the frightening part—all along this particular block, the trees hang quite low and into the street. The week prior, two metro Atlanta teenagers were struck, one fatally, by lightening. I did my best not to panic, and ran to the nearest porch. Don’t know a soul in this neighborhood and I gotta be honest: I was scared. What if the owners freak out seeing a soaking wet black woman with locs on their porch and start to shoot? I decide to take the chance with the buckshot to the ass over the lightening.

After about ten minutes, the rain subsides. I haul ass and just as I reach the front yard it starts to come down again. My phone survived, alas my Adidas did not. They are lying in state on the patio while I pass the hat to raise enough money for “final arrangements.”

I was soaked to my drawers, y’all. As I rung out my clothes, muttering, “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I thought about all the times in my life I had to “turn around” and “go back.” Or how sometimes, I started, stopped, but never went back and finished; there are many. I was joining the Reserves in a few days; this is my third enlistment. The fact that I had “cut and run” from the military before—twice, and returning—again, took center stage in my mind. When I left active duty in 2008, a lot of people thought it was a dumb move—and they were very vocal about it. There were several serious, personal reasons for my decision; and I’ve tried not to let folks’ opinion get to me. Nevertheless, it hurts, because most of the naysayers are immediate family. Some, including an ex-boyfriend, indirectly called me a coward and said I was “afraid to deploy.” Whoa.

Things are somewhat different for me now. Some good, some bad; yet, enlisting is a choice I feel a lot better about this time around. I’m a little more in control and indeed better informed. So the Friday after my baptismal by “southern afternoon downpour,” I checked the sky for clouds and smiled. I was confident that sometimes it’s okay to turn around go back. Every so often in order to keep dry and prevent lightening from striking your ass, it’s damn necessary.

Axe.

The Lesson:
One of the secrets to success is to never tell what you know. No matter who you are, or how nice of a person you may be, someone will for whatever reason, want to piss on your parade. When you have a plan in mind: keep the shit to yourself (seriously). But put that plan into motion; don’t just talk about it—be about it.