So I'm Not A Runner

I'm not a runner. Some people are. They can put on shoes and happily log five miles without thinking. Like breathing air I imagine. I'll repeat...I'm not a runner. To me its dying. Lungs bursting. Legs screaming, "What are you doing?". Brain telling me to slow down, to walk...just walk. It'll be fine. It's not cheating.

Don't get me wrong, there have been times in my life that I've become accustomed to running. I've worked up to getting out several times a week. Shaved time off my personal bests. Enjoyed the feel of the cool air, the endorphin rush, keeping beat to my favorite songs. Those are the times its not too bad. That's probably the best it will get for me.

There are two things that got me out running again. The first is trying to lose weight. A look back into my history tells me that the only real times I've had luck with weight loss was when I had a steady run regimen going. So here I am, trying to get back into the swing of things.

Hello old running shoes...its been a while. Sad to say over six months probably. And then a year before that. Injuries, pregnancy, no time with the baby...there are a few excuses but here I am again, starting from scratch because it truly has been a while. Walking just doesn't cut it anymore.

So here is my second reason for getting moving, this one a bit more personal. So much so that I don't believe I've ever told anyone. Because then it will be real. Then it will be out there. So here goes...

I want to run a marathon before I die.

Its a crazy goal for a non-runner. But there it is. Right up there with some of the other huge life-changing things I've attempted. I have a feeling it will come with a whale-sized dose of accomplishment. I've said many times that when I'm 80 I want to look back on my life and be happy with what I have done. I definitely don't want to look back and think, "I wish I hadn't played it so safe. I wish I had at least tried."

I hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and back when I was 23. Going down was alright...just a bit of a challenge. Beautiful sights, the rock layers changing the deeper you go, the temperature change with the elevation, the endless switchbacks, the steps built in for the steeper sections. All of that down takes a bite out of your legs and feet. I camped overnight at the bottom. One of the most beautiful nights I've ever spent camping. But coming back up, oh man. All incline. Miles of incline, broken up by an endless stairmaster. I never thought I'd make it. I'd heard stories of people that actually died in the canyon. I could understand it, the toll on your body. Not having enough water. Not being prepared. Getting lost in some of the more desolate areas. I thought at the very least I would need to be rescued. How mortifying. But I finally made it. Came out at the top, barely able to walk, legs shaking. I literally kissed the ground. And then I cried. My body was just so tired. I didn't think it was possible to be that tired. And I remember vividly that I couldn't walk straight for three days...a healthy dose of the Kaibab Shuffle due to the Canyon's toll on my legs.

The thing is though...I did it. I made it, and it is one of the most gratifying memories I have, simply because it was one of the hardest things I have ever accomplished. That's what makes me think I can actually manage a marathon.

So here I am with a marathon goal. It seems impossible. Or at the very least improbable. I am, after all, not a runner. But as with anything hard, if you manage to break it down into small stages of goals, it can be done.

So my first goal is a 5k. Not too daunting. 3.1 miles. Definitely doable. Sad to say most of my history of running consisted of 1.5 mile runs...just enough to get me a decent time for my old job requirement. I did manage to put in a few decent 5k's with my now-hubby back in our dating days. But lord knows that was back when I was in shape and could handle it.

A couple of good friends suggested that if I were to sign up for a 5k race, I could even walk it if I needed to. I have no idea why this never occurred to me before. It was brilliant...took all the pressure off.

So here's what brings me to writing today. I actually went out and did it, a 5k. Just to see if I could. Started out running, made it 1.5 miles, then walked a half, ran a half, and walk/ran the last bit. And I surprised myself by pulling it off fairly easily without having really run in the past six months. Yes, I've gotten a fair amount of walking in, but that's about it.

I felt sore the next day, but so good about what I'd done that I got out and did it again today. Twice in one week. This time I ran 2 miles and walked/ran the last mile and change, but mostly running. My times are pretty sad. But I at least feel like I got something done towards a goal. And I suprised myself in the process. Next thing to do is sign up for a race! Wish me luck!