Today I Am A Runner

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.