Page 53 of The Comeback Summer

While our comfort zones do keep us safe, they can also stifle us. Today, consider one way you stay in your comfort zone, and what positive emotions are associated with that. Then dig deeper, and explore if there are any negative emotions below the surface. Write about those.

Hannah, 6/26

A simple example of staying in my comfort zone: passing off a client call to Libby, something that happens nearly every day at work. My first impulse is to feel relieved and grateful, too.

But underneath that, I’m frustrated with myself. Embarrassed that I’m an adult woman who gets anxious doing something so ordinary.

And deeper still, I feel a little... claustrophobic. Like I’m in a small, windowless room with a ceiling so low I can’t even stand up straight. I feel restless, like I want to stretch, to see how tall I could stand if I didn’t put limits on myself.

Twenty

HANNAH

“Ready to go?” I call to Libby as i lace up my running shoes.

It’s a Wednesday evening and we’re meeting Josh and Scott for our first workout with the entire Down & Dirty team. We’re going to North Avenue Beach, not far from downtown—a wide swath of sand popular with sunbathers and volleyball players—so we can practice running, squatting, and crawling in sand and water.

I’m excited for the workout. Less so about seeing Josh again. My emotions are still all over the place when it comes to him, and I appreciated having Libby as a buffer on our last run.

It was strange when he fell back to help her, though—not the helping part; that’s a very Josh thing to do. But when he caught back up with me, he seemed on edge; we parted awkwardly and haven’t spoken since.

Another reason it’ll be nice to have Libby and Scott at the workout today.

Libby still hasn’t come out of her room, so I head across the hall, calling, “Libs?”

She’s facedown on the bed in her exercise clothes, fast asleep. My heart swells with affection and pride; she’s been working so hard and making great progress, even if she can’t see it.

Her evil cat is perched on the pillow beside her, his yellow eyes glinting with spite. I want to tell him to chill out; no way am I going to wake Libby up. Rest is important when you’re training, and we already went on a walk today and did the stairs by the river at lunch.

I gently close her door behind me and head to the kitchen, then send a text to the group chat for our D&D team.

Hannah:Libby isn’t going to make it for tonight’s workout. Either of you still want to go?

Scott’s reply comes back instantly:I’m out

I roll my eyes, unsurprised. Scott prefers the controlled environment of a gym, not outside “among the unwashed masses,” as he told me.

Josh’s response arrives next:I’m still game

A tremor of uncertainty runs through me. It’s smarter to avoid being alone with him. But if I back out now, it will just make things more awkward.

Okay,I reply.See you soon.

•••

AN HOUR LATER,Josh and I are sprinting down the lake path. I chickened out by suggesting we run instead of doing the planned workout, because it’d be easier to avoid talking. I’ve purposefully kept a pace so brisk that it’s impossible to do anything but focus on the pounding of my feet on the pavement, the burning in my lungs and legs. If Josh realizes why I’m runningthis fast, he hasn’t let on. He’s stayed right next to me as we head down the path, dodging other runners and walkers.

We’ve covered five miles in less than forty minutes, and my body is screaming for me to stop. I refuse to listen. But then Josh slows abruptly.

“Can we walk”—he gasps—“for a minute?”

He winces in pain, and I put on the brakes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s my”—he sucks in a breath—“hip flexor.” Another breath. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I say between my own rapid breaths. Now that I’ve slowed down, my body is protesting the punishment I just gave it. I’ll pay for this tomorrow. “Do you need to sit down?”

We’re not far from Navy Pier, a strip of land the size of ten football fields jutting out into the lake, site of the Ferris wheel that’s an iconic part of the Chicago lakefront. The place is a tourist trap—full of chain restaurants and gift shops—but there are benches, bathrooms, and water.

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