The Truth About Cobweb Fences (or When Not Wetting Your Pants is Your Biggest Win)

And a Thai Noodle Soup Recipe that will please your belly and your bankroll

Photo by Belinda Fewings on Unsplash

So there I stood on our front porch, doubled-over after my first post 45th birthday, I’m-taking-on-new-challenges “run.” (In this circumstance “run” refers to me maintaining a speed one notch above a swift walk for approximately a mile and a half—should you have passed me on the road, you may have mistaken me for someone who desperately needed to pee.) Sweat poured down my cheeks and my lungs were still gasping for air five minutes after I’d dragged myself in off the street.

“Yeah, you’re not a runner,” the voice in my head said. “Look at you. You’re a complete disaster. It was noble of you to give this whole ‘running experiment’ a try, but it’s time to put away the sneakers. You’re done.”

By the time the voice got to the end of her little spiel, I’d sniffed her out for who she was. She was the “You’re the Worst” Voice (YWV, for short) that had been bumming around inside the walls of my brain for years. But after my 45th birthday revelation, I’d decided that I was putting old YWV into retirement. Turns out that’s easier said than done.

Every time that I courteously asked her to move along, she planted herself ever firmer into the dark corner of my mind with a smug little smile stitched across her face. So I decided that if I couldn’t politely put her on a plane to some remote desert island, maybe I could make my brain a less hospitable place to live. I knew it would take longer and more effort, but it looked like that was my only option.

So after she got done ranting about my first run performance, I pushed back. “Okay maybe I’m not a runner…yet. But I did run for 20 minutes—albeit it was slow—and guess what? I didn’t wet my pants, and that’s a pretty big win in my book.”

Here’s the deal, if you have a reliable, always-on-the-job pelvic floor, you might be rolling your eyes at my rebuttal to YWV. Fair enough. But if your pelvic floor has been somehow compromised over the years (moms, I’m talking to you right now), you would know that it’s no small thing to exert your body by running or jumping rope or laughing without coming away with your lower region feeling like a toddler who couldn’t get to the potty fast enough. It’s a really big deal.

And over the past several months, with devoted practice to yoga and its “pelvic floor conditioning” exercises, I found that my own pelvic floor had risen to the challenge of running. After that momentous boast, YWV conceded defeat for the moment. But I knew she’d be back soon enough.

In fact, her return came about a week later. That afternoon I saw an advertisement for a local 5k race that was taking place the following weekend. That sounds like fun, I thought.

YWV’s ears perked up. Her perfect opportunity to reassert herself had finally arrived. “Are you kidding me?” she snapped. “You can’t do that race. You’ve been running for a grand total of one week. You can barely eke out two miles and even that you do like you’re running through molasses. Races are for real runners. You, my dear, are not a real runner.”

I listened intently to what she said.

Then I pulled out my new favorite question.

“Is that true? Am I disqualified by any ‘race rules’ to participate in this little event? No. I’m not registering for the Boston Marathon here. No qualifying times are required for entry. So why can’t I do it?”

YWV saw where I was going with this, and she didn’t like it one bit. “You can’t do that race because you’ll come in dead last,” she snarled. “Old overweight men in too tight sweat suits will soar past you as you gasp in the back of the pack. At the finish line, they will have already packed away the signs and AV equipment, waiting with arms crossed and patience spent for you to drag yourself to the end so they can finally go home. You will be a complete embarrassment.”

I considered YWV’s scenario and again asked, “Is that true?”

Yes, there was a good possibility that I would be the last one across the finish line. And yes, questionably dressed grandpas would probably pass me. But even if I was last and everyone was annoyed by my snail-like performance, did I even care? My goal was to experience running this 5k. If I finished, then I’d complete my goal and that’s all that mattered.

At that point YWV gave an exaggerated sigh, rolled her eyes, and mumbled to herself as she hobbled back to her corner.

So I registered for the race.

Ten days later, race day arrived, cold and wet. I mean really wet. I mean a steady chilly rain that had no intention of pulling up stakes and moving on. And I had never run in the rain. YWV’s eyes brightened and she scurried back to the center stage of my mind. “You can’t run in the rain,” she croaked. “You barely survive on a pleasant day. Now you’re going to be cold, wet, miserable, and pathetic all at once. Really, all this race talk was a nice charade, but let’s get back to reality. You’re better off just staying at home and snuggling up under the covers with a book. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Truth is, it did sound nice. But something she said made me curious: was it true that I couldn’t run in the cold and rain? How could I know unless I tried it? I saw YWV wilting off the stage as I texted my friend who was running the race with me: “The weather doesn’t look great, but if you’re up for a cold, wet run, I am.” She texted back, “Let’s do it!”

And so we did. After the first 200 yards, my body had completely warmed up. By the first 1/2 mile, I was completely drenched and it felt lovely. Yes, we got passed by old men and children and almost every other person on the course. No, we didn’t come in last. There were a handful of runners that straggled in behind us. But when we did eventually cross the finish line, there was a small eager crowd there cheering for us, giving us high-fives, making us feel like we’d just finished the Olympic marathon. It was fabulous. We were smelly and exhausted, but we felt absolutely marvelous.

I wish I could say after that whole incident, YWV packed her bags and hailed her own flight out of my brain, but she hasn’t. She’s still here. But she’s introduced me to this idea that I like to call “cobweb fences.” Throughout my life YWV has done a great job of setting up cobweb fences all around me, and she weaves them with her two favorite words: you can’t. The power of those two simple words makes the fence look like the impenetrable barriers that Tolkien’s formidable spider, Shelob, loved to trap her prey with in The Lord of the Rings. Through the years, I’d take one look at that those thick sticky walls and sigh to myself, “Yep, I can’t.”

But something changed when I started this running journey. I started seeing the cobweb fences for what they really were: whisper-thin casings that a healthy gust of air would break in two if I simply found the courage to breathe deep and exhale. This, I’ve discovered, is where change actually begins. When my response to YWV’s barriers becomes a breathy, “But what if I try anyway,” the fences fall away and new horizons open up all around me.

It’s the action that follows that is the hard part. Tune in next week for more.

Until then, I had to share this delicious, Thai-inspired soup recipe that my daughter introduced me to a few years ago and has now become a regular visitor on our family’s weekly meal rota. It features some ingredients from a well-known discount grocery store, and as I share below, there are few things I love more than a good edible bargain!

Vegan Thai Noodle Soup

I love bargains of any and every kind. My entire wardrobe—apart from my underwear—comes completely from thrift stores. Much to my husband’s chagrin, he rarely leaves the house for a short dash to the store without me throwing a coupon at him and shouting “Don’t forget to use it!” as he speeds out the door. But a bargain that I can eat, well, that’s the creme de la creme. Through the years, I’ve had the pleasure of shopping at my fair share of grocery outlets (and I just so happen to live 10 short miles from probably the best one on the planet—but more about that later), so when my daughter astounded us with this Vegan Thai Noodle Soup recipe for dinner one night and then later texted me the recipe, I could only smile when I saw the recipe author gave a nod to the grocery outlet giant, Aldi, and then proceeded to break down the cost of the meal per serving. A woman after my own heart. And proof to one and all that you can eat delicious and nutritious food on the cheap. Give this one a try, friends!