In high school I joined the indoor track intramural sports program. From what I remember we were not timed ever but, rather, simply let loose in the halls of the high school. For me, my friends joined so I did too. Simple. Afterwards, come to think of it a few times we went during, (since this was back in the day when parents - and clearly school officials - didn't worry about security or kidnapping) we would run through a trail by the school which conveniently led to Mickey D's where we'd reward ourselves with milkshakes and fries. Basically it was a social outlet, which is the only reason I was there because, again, I was no runner.
Fast forward many years to 2011 and a friend told me about a 5K race for women only called Run Like a Mother. Are you kidding? I can't run a half mile...but I'll do it for the t-shirt alone! Funny thing how motivating a cute shirt can be.
So I started "training" on the treadmill following the six-week to 5K schedule on the race website. And you know what? I did that race and I loved it. Okay, not the running part. That sucked. But the comradery of all the mothers, sisters, daughters and friends doing something together to better themselves on Mother's Day, the official race t-shirt and, most of all, the mimomas afterward.
I completed my first 5K in a respectable time. But I still didn't call myself a runner.
This year, I trained again for the same 5K and actually started running on the road. Until last year, the only time I'd ever run on the road any distance at all was the race itself. I had a history of shin splints dating back to the milkshakes and fries era and was paranoid. As it turns out, I get shin splints easier from walking than running. In Florida, several weeks before race #2, my husband ran with me for the first time in our 20 plus years together. It was fun. Brutal, but fun. I was feeling better prepared for the race, now running 2-1/2 to 3 miles. Hmmm. Maybe I was becoming.... Naaaah. This is me we're talking about.
Then I did something crazy. I signed up for another 5K only a week after the Mother's Day race. I would never have planned for it, but the race was in memory of Julia Malsin, a remarkable young lady who passed away earlier this year. The course for Julia's Run was intimidating to this non runner, but after reading something Julia's mom had written about her struggles and determination to make a difference after her daughter's death I felt completely ridiculous for remotely hesitating about this so-called "challenge."
So I ran both races. A week apart. Mimosas after the first, breakfast with the family after the second. Life was pretty good. And for the first time, I was starting to believe in myself. I had three 5K races under my belt in a year's time. Not too shabby if I do say so myself.
And then a funny thing happened. Having done two 5Ks in one week, I started looking for others. I was becoming a 5K junkie.
I found one close by happening about 10 days later. So I signed up for that one too. Now before you go thinking I'd really lost it at this point, let me share that this last race was famous for one thing: FLATNESS. It was marked as an easy course which, therefore, had my name written all over it. Plus, let's not forget, there was a t-shirt involved.
There I was, making great strides (pun partially intended) in my new outlook on fitness. Life was good. I went out early one morning to run just two days before the flat 5K. I should have taken it as a sign when the GPS signal on my iPhone app indicated "poor" strength. Or when this same app was telling me I was running a 3-1/2 minute mile instead of my usual 9-something. I wasn't. Clearly, this app was OFF that day...as I should have been as well. And here's why.
A mile and a quarter into my final pre-race run, on a remote road in my neighborhood, I slipped on a patch of wet leaves and rolled my ankle.
Down. I. Went.
Oh, it was not pretty. And I have the pictures on Facebook to prove it. (Hee hee. Yes, amidst the chaos and my own humiliation, I took pictures. And posted them.) I do pray, however, that no one checks the security footage at the gate in front of the driveway where I fell. Or if they do, that they're not drinking coffee at the time for they'll undoubtedly spray a mouthful of it onto their video screen witnessing this dumb blonde sprawled out on the road before them, picking leaves and dirt off her bloodied knee and elbow. It was a doozy all right.
Maybe I was getting a little carried away. Maybe I needed a break and this was my cosmic sign. Either way, no flat 5K for me!
Will I run again? You betcha.
My friends and I are discussing running the Disney Princess 1/2 Marathon in February. Here's the shocking thing...I think I can do it!
Me! The Non Runner!
It's a funny thing when you start to believe in yourself. It's never too late.
So for all you able-bodied non runners out there, I have something to share. You can do it too. How do I know? Because I couldn't run a half a mile 15 months ago and now I'm about to start training (yes, when the aircast comes off) for something much bigger than I ever dreamed possible. Will it suck? Probably. But I'll do it for the t-shirt...the mimosas...the pictures with Disney characters...and the amazing time I'll share and treasure with friends for the rest of my life.
I am a runner. There, I said it.
