The Unlikely Runner

One of my 2013 goals (I won’t call them resolutions, because we all know what happens with those pesky resolutions) was to run a 5K.  Just one simple 5K race.  That shouldn’t be too hard, should it?

For me, though, I knew it would be.  Even though I was determined to get in shape and lose some extra weight in 2013, I was not a runner.  Even when I dabbled with running overseas, I was never fast, could never run long distances without stopping to walk, and I always had trouble breaking or with shin splints.  I simply wasn’t cut out for running.

Wrong!  Wrong!  Wrong.

So, it turns out that running is like a drug.  It’s addicting.  It’s fabulous.  It has so many benefits.  I miss doing it when I don’t have time to run.  I’d rather run than ride the stationary bike or lift weights (seriously…this is shocking). 

I didn’t feel this way on my first April run.  It was very slow.  And I couldn’t breathe.  And I came home aching and incredibly glad that it was over.  But I was already committed to a 5K.  So I had to keep going.

That knowledge propelled me through my training runs (I didn’t use a prescribed training program–I made my own based on what I knew I could already do and where I needed to end up).  I didn’t worry about speed, instead focusing on running 3-4 times a week and increasing my distance every few runs.  And when 5K day arrived, I ran it.

Terribly.  Slowly.  With quite a bit of walking.

I left the course discouraged that all of my training had been for nothing.  My time was way worse than on any of my training runs. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I felt accomplished that I’d done something I’d never done before.

But I also felt disappointed with myself.  I knew that I could do better.

Instead of quitting, I started training again.  This time, the challenge of “I’ve never run a 5K” disappeared.  And I ran a second 5K two weeks later…and over 5 minutes faster than the first one. 

And now, I sort of love this running thing.  You train.  You improve.  You get some quiet, meditative time.  You run.

Running is a drug.  And though I’m an unlikely runner, I’m definitely a runner.  No one is more surprised than me.


3 thoughts on “The Unlikely Runner

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s