ok, ok, I really don't hate running. I actually owe running a lot, since it helped me to exit my very awkward, slightly chubby early teenage years with slightly less awkwardness and chub than I would have had otherwise. Back when I was in 9th grade, my best friend at the time, Ally, convinced me to join the track team as a long distance runner. I was assured that "long distance" in track meant the longest race I would have to run would only be the 1600 m (1 mile) event. The first few weeks running I was very sore, and very slow. Probably the slowest one on the team besides Ally. We would run together at our own pace, the rest of the team a ways ahead, enjoying ourselves perhaps more than we should have. Our coach was a great guy who's whole life seemed to be built around helping his team succeed. I spend a lot of time with him, because he would often run with the tail end of the team to assure we didn't drop off the trail somewhere. He taught me the proper form, to keep my arms swinging parallel to my body, elbows at 90 degrees, and to breathe like a rhino. Coach was also the first to acclimate me to the world of men in spandex and really short shorts.
I was never the record breaking star of the team, nor did I ever desire to be so. I liked track because the only thing that mattered was beating yourself. That's what they told me at least. I wasn't ever first, but I never came in last either. I prided myself in my endurance- no matter what I would always keep running. Slow, but steady, as a wise tortoise once counseled. It drove me crazy that girls would be way faster than me, while they would just walk when they got tired. I never walked! I figured that they were somehow cheating by walking and still winning. Whatever. The workouts that I loathed the most were the interval work outs on the track where we would do sprints. Nasty stuff that often induced a desire to vomit. However, I think they were effective. There was one girl on the team that I would always be behind the whole race, until the last 100m when I would sprint past her just before we crossed the finish line. ;) oh ya baby. Thank you interval training.
After track came cross country with the same beloved coach. He convinced me to stick around for the slightly longer distances assuring that never would I race more than 3.2 miles. Summer training was awesome, because it was motivation to wake up early and go running that I certainly wouldn't have found on my own. Plus it made my cheeks thinner, my skin tanner, and my hair blonder (if blonder is even a word...). I loved it. We got to go to Southern Utah for x-country camp, which was one of the funnest things I did in high school. We ran, ate, played, swam in waterfalls, and lit stuff on fire (the girls were very outnumbered). Plus I had shin splints so I didn't have to do all the work outs. They were doing two runs a day while I only had to do one run every other day-Hannah Montana said it best when she said, "I got the best of both worlds!"
This summer I've been running again in preparation for the Ragnar. This time, there is no fun group of fellas waiting to go running with me early each morning. It is just me, myself, and my brain. This time the only person I have to disappoint if I walk, is me- and frankly, I don't really care. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I don't attach my self-worth to how hard I work out, or what percentage of a run I actually run. To be a good runner you have to really push yourself. Essentially your greatest competitor is yourself. Me, myself, and my brain I don't have a competitive bone in my body, not even against me! So training has been probably less rigorous than it perhaps should have been. I'd rather pick flowers, and enjoy the cool morning air than run through it. I'd rather just take a stroll and contemplate life than pound my aching body into the pavement. I'd rather do an hour of revitalizing yoga, which my body loves, than break past the mental block that stands in between me and a good, long run.
Despite this, there is the 15% that I do love. I love running on the treadmill. The conveyor belt that is set a t a certain speed is the only thing that can keep my feet moving I suppose. I like running in 40 min blocks, rather than a certain number of miles. I like the way you feel after you finish a hard workout. I like the satisfaction of being drenched in sweat.
The lesson learned on this running journey? I will never be a professional marathon runner. Nor will I ever be a really serious runner in any right. On my own that is. I need either a really dedicated group of people to wake up for in the morning, or a treadmill dictator to force me to keep moving my feet.
ps. I realize this is really long. I apologize, and plead you remember I have hours without end to do nothing but blog. :)
1 comment:
So, I was tempted to skip to the end and just read the conclusion but I could not bring myself to do it. It's inspiring that you kept with running so much. I hate running too, but mostly because I'm slow and unmotivated. I didn't hate it so much when we took the jogging class and I got good at it. The end.
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