My whole life, I always wanted to be a runner, but I was a true believer (or excuse finder?) that I just “didn’t have the body for it.” I was overweight, out of shape and miserable most of my years. I wasn’t blessed to be one of those stress-anorexics, Nicole Richie anyone? Instead, I was a stress-eater. When things went wrong, I grabbed some chocolate and went to town.
At university, I reshaped my entire life and body. After gaining the frosh fifteen, more like twenty, I spent my junior year single-by-choice pushing to find the real person deep down inside. I ate healthier, worked out, lost weight and then one day, hopped on the treadmill.
I ran a mile that day.
I wanted to shout it from the rooftops! I still remember the treadmill, the people around me and how my face beamed when I walked out of the college gym that day. I ran. I could run. I ran a freakin’ mile people. Was I a runner yet?
That’s when my obsession started. Something clicked that day. I remember running the university track at night, running through the trails in the dark (do not try this at home!) and spending the holidays running around my hometown. I thought I was cool. My sister even came to see my first 5k race at Blue Claws Stadium, which was on my husband’s birthday the first two weeks we met!
Life was coming together 🙂 I was on cloud nine. I became a runner, but never dared to call myself that after years of running. Only the day I completed my first half-marathon, up in Long Branch, did I finally accepted that I, yes I, was a ‘runner’. I was one of those people, forever changed.
As life continued on, I kept running. When I was stressed, I’d run. When I was happy, I’d run. When I was overly ambitious, I’d sign up for a bunch of races. I even won my age group one time, wowee!
Then my dad passed. I couldn’t put my shoes on. I tried, oh, how I tried. I ended up walking most of those runs for the next two years… I remember showing up to a Trick or Trot race, dressed and ready to go, only to get my bib number, cry my eyes out and ask Chris to take me home. We left that day. I was broken and became a no-show at two other races.
All that kept running hah! through my head was why bother, we’re all going to die anyway.
Man, that’s a rough downer of a thought!
For years, I’ve kept in touch with my uber-running buddies in person, through twitter and dailymile. I’ve watched them clock thousands of miles happily on the roads or dreadmills. I was mad, that was supposed to be me out there.
After a few years of non-running and fighting myself to run, I finally broke through. I was running 10 milers in April 2011. I was back. I was super excited. I was beaming when I’d finish those long runs.
I still can remember my last 10 miler at the reservoir. Ah, I was thrilled. It was supposed to be 9, but I was on a cloud, floating to make it 10. Yes, I was “me” again. Two months later we decided to start a family. Wham, that was quick. Must of been the running 😉
I was saddled with all-day-morning-my-butt-sickness. I ran twice that summer. While I felt great on the run, I felt awful afterwards. Since then, I realized, heck, I should have run once a day for relief… I’ve read so many people found that works. Duh. I was lazy-tired growing a new life.
Throughout my pregnancy, I would be what you call a weekend-warrior. I ran mostly on the weekend, just a few miles here or there. Then I just got gigantic… and running was no more.
After Miles arrived, I attempted running a few times to much disappointment. I was a sloth, running with cement boots. Things didn’t work right. I gave up in despair. But, I’m a runner. I was a runner. I want to be a runner. Why am I not a runner?! Argh.
So, this fall, I rejoined the gym. I decided to focus on weight-lifting and push aside running for awhile. Running nagged at me. The treadmill called my name. I refused. She begged. She prodded. She pushed me… I said, no, weight-lifting is my focus, okay?
Still, the pull has not stopped and I started to re-read my favorite running books, one of which is Strides. There’s just something about a fire being lit inside from reading a book. When I read about running, all I want to do is go for a run.
So, you know what? I’m back baby.
You can scratch Kate and Running in a ❤ on a tree. We’re going to be together for a loooooong time.
And, if anything, I want to run to be an awesome example to this little fella right here.
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