I am not a runner
Friday, May 29, 2015
At the beginning of the year, I decided I would start a blog. I think I wrote three entries and then it fizzled out. Towards the end of January though, I wrote this and wanted to share it here. After I wrote this, I ran a 5k and beat my previous time by 10 minutes! I finished in 36:44. My ultimate goal is to run a half-marathon.
What didn't make it into my blog post is that running is very theraputic to me (when I FB check-in at the high school track, I always post that it is time for track therapy). I find a sense of self when I am running (whether it is at the track, in the woods or on a country road). I listen to upbeat music and soak in the power and strength I feel. Running gives me a feeling of oneness that I do not find anywhere else.
Here is my blog post: I am not a runner
I am not a runner. Try as I might, I really kind of stink at it. I once told J I was going for a run, he said, “Don’t you mean a shuffle?” I was slightly heartbroken that he didn’t have much faith in my skills. However, during my time at the track that day, my fastest speed was none other than a shuffle.
My shuffle and the pace at which I do it, leaves me feeling self-conscious. Most others I encounter while at the track or in the park are traveling at speeds I have not yet been capable of reaching. But let’s be honest here, I have not practiced enough to claim the title of a runner.
In the last three years, I have participated in several races. I have completed three 5k’s, six mud/obstacle runs and two color races. The mud runs are my favorite. Crossing the finish line after climbing frighteningly high rope walls, swimming across ponds, and crawling through mud, after traveling three-plus miles is insanely satisfying.
About two thirds into my second 5k, I was struggling to keep a decent pace and breathe at the same time. One of the things that kept me going was seeing so many other people, at varying stages of fitness and of all ages, run…shuffle…walk. Then a mom, pushing a stroller as she jogged, tended to her baby (running alongside the stroller) as she passed me up. If not for being out of breath and trying to focus, I would have giggled at the idea of her passing me up even though he was running sideways and digging for a juice cup in the seat of her stroller.
One thing I have taken away from being a part of these races is that it does not matter your size, your skill level, or how fast or slow you go. The important thing is that you show up and you do your best. You push through, even when your body is telling your mind that you can’t do it anymore. You push through, especially when you want to quit.
I am not a runner, but I won’t let that stop me from trying!