1/22/14 -- When I started attending QU I was focused on bettering myself, but I was not aware of how much that goal would encompass.

I am now beginning of my senior year, and I don’t know where to begin on just how much of me is better.

When I stepped on the campus for the first time, I stared directly at the ground.   I was confident that the pavement would not confirm my fear of rejection, but looking up certainly could.   Unfamiliar faces made me unsure of myself, and I feared my age would cause glances, but even more so, was my weight problem.

No matter how much confidence I had in my writing ability, I could never let myself see my potential until I fixed that.  So amidst raising my family and a full school schedule, I started doing something that I would have considered crazy a couple of years ago.

I went on a diet and I lost 70lbs in a little under a year.

I started running too, and the track in the Fitness Center has become a haven for me.   It didn’t start out that way, though.  My first time there I was kissing pictures of my kids, because I was certain I would never see them again.

I didn’t die, though.  I got better and better, and I keep doing the same.  That is why I love fitness, because each day my only competition is yesterday.   I do not have to outdo anyone except myself, and each time I do I grow (or shrink) a little more.  I just have to keep telling myself to keep going, no matter how exhausted I get.

Running the track to self-improvement has been the theme of my time at Quincy University.

There are many nights I have had to tell myself to keep going as I study for another test or write another paper.   Certainly there are days I have wanted to give up, and just between you and me, there are moments I did give up.

One day I was exhausted from attempting too-much homework in the time slot from the kid’s bedtime to my bedtime.  This resulted in my not having a bedtime at all, and working through the night.   
And of course that day it rained, and rained, and rained.

I sat in my car in front of campus, and I told myself I couldn’t do it.   I miserably sat in there, ate a king-sized Snickers bar and cried right along with the rain.   I didn’t go to class that day, and on that day I did not improve.  I let yesterday win.

Still, that day was part of the journey.

After wallowing in exhausted self-pity, I gave the self-talk that I needed.   I could do it, and deep down I knew how badly I wanted it.  I marched in the building and I told my professor exactly what I did, and he laughed at my honesty.  Apparently that is called a mental health day, and apparently I really needed it—along with the Snickers bar.

The next day, though, I got up and I got back on track, literally and figuratively.

Every corner I round and every task I complete is a mile in this journey, and as my feet hit the pavement I am no longer afraid of rejection.

When I walk the track at graduation, I will most assuredly hold my head up high.


Megan Duncan
This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.