I Never thought I was a liar

Today I was thinking about all of the things I said I would never do. One of those was that I would never be a runner.

Growing up I was always a ‘husky’ kid. I was ‘big boned’. I was ‘stout’. I was never described as athletic and instead of challenging that idea I accepted it. I made sure to reinforce those beliefs by dreading the days of PE that required us to run. Playing football, baseball, wrestling and pretty much anything that meant I had to run caused me to start the misery machine in my mind. Before I had taken a single step I had decided I was going to hate it. I was always proved right. Did you know that if you aren’t a runner and you don’t run, running is really hard to do?

Fast forward to 2023. There was a meeting of friends I had made on the internet and part of that meeting was running a 5k race. I didn’t train for it but I wanted to see what I was capable of. I ran almost the entire race. It sucked. I was gasping for breath and my body hurt. What was different though was that I had fun with the overall activity and there was already talk among the people there that we would do something similar again in the future.

This is where my running journey began.

I started incorporating running into my weekly life. I got better at it. I got to the point where running a mile was comfortable. That mile grew to two and then three. There were more races and I began to find that doing something hard on a regular basis makes it easier.

Still, the narrative of 40+ years of life that I was not a runner was still strong in my mind. I wouldn’t admit it. I balked at the idea of calling myself a runner because it was something I did and not something I loved.

2024 arrived and I decided that I would run a half marathon. I’d already down several 5k and 10k races and looked at the half marathon as a natural progression. At that point it was something that I was doing for bragging rights. I wanted to say that I did it.

I found a training program and set out to run 13.2 miles.

Training is not fun. Especially when I live in a time constrained life.

One Saturday morning I looked at the plan and it said I needed to run 11 miles. I didn’t want to do it. BUT I had a goal in mind. I ran that day and about mile 6 my mind was made up. That day was the day. I had decided I was going to do a half marathon. No finish line, no medal, no crowd cheering me on. I was going to do it for me. I was going to do it because I believed that I could. I did. I ran 13.2 miles. No fanfare, no parade just me and my knowledge that it had happened.

Still, I didn’t call myself a runner.

Today, December 28, 2024 I woke up with the intent to run. Life had been busy and I hadn’t run more than a couple of steps since early November. What surprised me was I MISSED it. I wanted to run. I wanted to feel my legs move me forward, I wanted to hear the breath of my body as it worked to move me forward. I wanted to feel the wind in my face and watch the world pass by me just a little bit faster than normal.

I did it and it felt GOOD.

Look at me, I’m a runner.