I have always been a competitor at heart, according to my parents. They used to tell me stories about when I was two years old and I would challenge other toddlers to races across the playground. I competed in several different sports growing up, but (ironically) I always hated running, possibly due to the fact that I was a competitive swimmer for twelve years. I even competed in a triathalon when I was 14, and I beat my (marathon-running) Dad because of my pool prowess, but I still struggled through the 5K run with gritted teeth. Similarly, I was in varsity lacrosse in high school, and I always struggled to run the 2-3 mile training runs, despite my cardio fitness from swimming.
When I went to college, however, I stopped competing and training for two to three hours a day. Between that, the development of an endocrinological disorder which slows my metabolism, and the lifestyle of a college student (you all know what I mean), I was not in the healthiest state. I still dabbled in club sports and exercise, but never at my previous level. I was never a junk food type person, but the former-athlete syndrome hit me hard (you may have heard of it- when an athlete is used to eating at a certain caloric level, then stops training. Not good). I would run once in a while, but mostly as a last resort.
By my senior year in college, though, I started to emerge from that lifestyle, taking up new sports like boxing. I still didn't like running, however; I would go to the gym and do the elliptical next to my friends who would run 3 miles on the treadmill. Sometimes I would make myself run a mile or so as a supplement, but that was about it. I would always say, "I just can't run, I have bad tendons" or other excuses. But one day, something changed, as if a few gears in my head just clicked into place. I just got on the treadmill and just started running. Over the next weeks, I started doing more, going farther or faster. Before I knew it I was running more than my friends whom I had previously watched in awe (and envy).
Now, that's how I started running, but I still wasn't a "runner." Runners were those crazy people who got up at 6 AM to run 20 miles. Runners were petite and slim (I am neither), and ate that weird Gu stuff. After graduation from college, though, that competitor in me started searching for the next great challenge (remember the racing two-year-old?). I signed up for my first 8K, which was a five mile race- a distance I had only run once or twice in my life, and only when forced. I remember the first day in training that I ran five miles straight without walking, which seemed like a huge milestone. As I have said to other aspiring runners, getting over the 3-4 mile hump (basically crossing the anaerobic threshold) is the hardest, and after that adding mileage is much easier. Once I had finished that five miles on a treadmill in a big gym, feeling very Rocky-esque, I looked around triumphantly to see who else had seen my success (no one looked). Still, I think that triumphant feeling is what captivates runners: not knowing for sure if you are physically capable of doing something, then doing it. That's when I first became a "runner," because I kept wanting more: I ran a five miler again within a few days. Real "runners" are always seeking the next challenge, moving on to bigger and longer runs. I raced the 8K, and I was hooked. Before I even ran a 10K I was signed up for a half marathon, and then another one within a month. I started going on 10 mile runs "for fun"- I had caught the runner's urge.
Somewhere along the way, I started running with "Flash" (that's my nickname for him in real life). I never realized how big of a difference having a good running buddy can make, especially when you are weaning yourself off the treadmill and starting to road run more often. It's especially important that they be about the same level and pace that you are, because otherwise someone always wants to go faster. Sure, there are days when one of us is feeling particularly good or particularly bad, but most days we are pretty much on the same page. Flash is a 10-time half marathoner (most of which he has completed in under two hours), and has completed a full marathon. He is one of my greatest sources of running inspiration- always telling me I can do more than I think I can (and which I am going to keep telling you, too!) and egging me on to sign up for more races. But the most important thing is that on 10, 12, or 14 mile runs, Flash is there getting through that 2 hours with me, sometimes chatting to pass the time. It's amazing how much of a difference that company can make, even if you run in silence.
One last thing about becoming a runner. People always seem to talk about the "runner's high," and it's cited as one of the reasons why athletes actually feel good while they are actually pushing themselves past a physical level that most people are comfortable with. I have to say, before this year, I had no idea what they were talking about- doesn't running ALWAYS suck? I'm not sure when I first experienced it, but there are definitely days in which I'm running, and everything else around me just sort of disappears. I forget that I'm moving my legs, or that I'm dodging around tourists. There's only me, my music, and the road. And sometimes, if I'm really lucky, I have a particularly good run. I call those the "Energizer bunny" runs, because I just keep feeling better and more elevated during the run (even 6 or 7 miles in) like I could run forever. I wish everyone could experience that feeling. Last weekend was one of those runs: I went out at 7 PM on Sunday night, planning on just going for a few miles, and I ended up running 10.
So, why did I tell you all of this? Let's just say that a former running-hater wants to tell you that it's possible to become one of those crazy people who get up at 6 AM to run 20 miles. Or run 10 miles just because they feel like it. As I said in my first post, nothing is holding you back except yourself. I did it for most of my life, always telling myself I could never really be a runner. But one day I stopped thinking about things in terms of what I "don't" or "can't" do, and started thinking about what I COULD. That's all. And in the words of my running idol (Forrest Gump), one day, "I just felt like running." The hardest part is putting on those running shoes, and it's all downhill from there.
Next post: why the hell I eat (and don't eat) what I do...
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