I’m 40 years
old and up until recently I was one to joke, “I’ll run only when something is
chasing me.” Of course, the realty
being, if I did have to run for my life, I wouldn't make it far before being
lunch to said fictional bear or tiger. I
hated running, from when I was a kid and was forced to run a mile in PE. It was hard, it was painful, it was sweaty; I
saw no redeeming value in it and frankly, looked upon runners as a strange
sub-breed of human. They weren't like us
normal people.
Then I ended
up in a relationship with a runner, and not just a runner, an aspiring ultrarunner. I watched him develop and at the same time
grew to admire him for it. And I watched
my sister as she went from never having run before to completing 5k’s, then half
marathons and then marathons. And I was amazed
at what she could do. And in response to
the inspiration they created in me, I did what to me was the only reasonable
thing. I dug my heals in and refused to
run.
Running was
their thing and they were already accomplishing wonderful things. If I started now, I would only be running in
their shadow. I’m too late to the party
I decided so what was the point. I’ll
just find something else; something that I can do on my terms. But I never did find that thing.
Instead,
faced with the stress of an ongoing nasty divorce, the loss of a job and
continued unemployment, I holed myself up in my house. And with that, the physical fitness that I
did have atrophied and the weight crept up and running became something that to
me was no longer just daunting, but seemingly impossible. But one day, for some reason, I decided to
try.
And I failed. Winter was upon us and I could not maintain
the will-power to leave the house, let alone run from it. But some time passed and I decided to try
again.
And I failed
again. Spring snows with wet slush; it
was so cold. And while in Colorado, the
snow would usually melt away, this time it stayed for a month. But the weather became warmer and for some
reason I decided to try again.
And I almost
failed again. You see, that guy that I
love, that aspiring ultrarunner, he’s also a barefoot runner. And when I started running, I also started
running barefoot and I loved it. I loved
the feeling of running barefoot, the texture of the ground as it passed beneath
my feet and unlike many people, I had no problems at all running barefoot. There was no break-in period for my
feet. They seemed to be made for
this. That was until the temperature
climbed above 80 degrees one day and I went for my run. Around my turnaround point is when I
discovered that the bottoms of my feet were beginning to blister due to the
heat of the pavement and I still had to get back on the same hot pavement on feet
that were now blistered. I could barely
walk for a week, let alone run and I could feel that motivation to run melting
away again. But for some reason, this
time, that spark did not go out completely and on feet still recovering, with
moleskin and medical tape, I began to run again.
And it was
hard. I could barely run ¼ mile before I
would be gasping and forced to walk again.
Hills were impossible obstacles and they are everywhere. Instead of feeling good after getting out, I would feel deflated and frustrated. I went to buy some running clothes and would
see tiny little running shorts that looked like they would fit a 12 year old and
I would quietly thumb through to the larger sizes, paying for them without even
looking the store clerk in the eye. And
the colors were so bright. I didn’t want
to be seen. I wanted clothes that would
blend into the background; some sort of urban running camouflage so I could get
my run done without judgment. I hated to run on the streets because I didn’t
want to be seen by people driving by. I
would run on the trails and when another runner would come by I would drop my
gaze and never look them in the eye out of embarrassment. I knew I didn’t belong and didn’t want to
look at them and see the confirmation in their faces. I wanted to run in invisibility. I was shown this blog that was making the
rounds. http://flintland.blogspot.com/2012/05/ It’s supposed to be inspirational. The only thought that continued to run
through my head over and over was, “Oh My God!
Am I The Fat Girl??????”
A few days
ago, I went for my run. In front of me I
saw another runner, but instead of seeing him briefly and then watching him
disappear as he quickly outpaced me as every runner seemed to do before,
something different happened. He stayed
there, the same distance away, just in front of me as I ran. He seemed to hit his turnaround point and
started running back towards me. He
smiled and waved and instead of looking at the ground, I lifted my head, smiled
and waved back. And that good feeling
got me through the remainder for my run.
It was still hard, I was still out of breath, the heat was horrible and
I had to walk some of it. But I stopped
wasting my energy on trying to be invisible and I felt lighter for it.
Today, I got
out of bed early and went for my run. I
ran two miles without walking at an 11:30 pace.
Sure I still have a ways to go, but that 10 minute mile doesn’t seem
quite so daunting as it once did. There
were lots of runners on the trail getting their running in before the heat of
the day kicks in. To everyone I passed,
I smiled and waved, whether they were running, walking the dog, pushing the
stroller or whatever. And I received
smiles and waves back from every person, except one.
She was
sweating, she was out of breath and she walked so far to the side of the trail
she was practically in the weeds. She
never saw me smile and wave to her because she never looked up as I ran by
her. I wanted to stop and tell her that
it gets better, that sooner than she thinks, she will be holding her head up
high and proud. But if she is like me,
it would do no good. She will have to discover
this on her own, like I did. But I hope
that she keeps going, even if she has to fail several times before she finally
makes it. And I hope that by some
strange twist of fate that I am on the same trail as her that day when she
finally lifts her head, smiles and realizes that she belongs.
Because
today I am a runner, and I know that I belong here.
