I Am Not a Runner.

I am not a runner.  I have short legs.  I'm uncoordinated.  I'm lazy.  All of these things have led me to generally avoid running for the vast majority of my life.  I never did track... I never ran for "fun" (whatever that is) or for exercise.  The only time I ran was laps at volleyball practices.  And, I even hated it then.  It was by far the thing I most dreaded about practice every day.

I have often said that I hate running.  Hate it.  I could not understand why anyone would do it if they didn't have to.  Despite my hatred of running, a few years ago, I got it into my head that I should start running.  Mostly because I couldn't afford a gym, and I had a few months free after my first year of law school.  And I may have gained 15 pounds the first year of law school... and marriage.  So, I convinced myself that I would run around the neighborhood.  Since I am a nerd, I researched running thoroughly to make myself a plan... and so I wouldn't look like an idiot.  I had about a billion things I worried about.  How do you breathe when you run?  Nose or mouth?  Deep or shallow?  What about stride?  Long stride or short stride?  Where should my foot land?  Should I run on the road or the sidewalk?  What side of the road do I run on?  On and on.

When I felt sufficiently versed in the sport of running, I bought myself a pair of running shoes, and I made my plan.  I decided I would try a walk/run approach.  Problem was, I had no idea how far I could run already.  Ok, had to assess my ability.  So, I took off on the first day at a leisurely jog to see how far I could go before I needed to stop.  Hmm.  Two blocks.  Perhaps I was a little more out of shape than I had thought.  Walked two blocks... ran two blocks... walked... ran.  Such it continued, and I was somewhat pleased with myself when I returned 20 minutes later feeling like I was dying.  I figured, runners always look like they're dying... so that was a good sign.  I was becoming a runner!  I kept running, a few times a week, and eventually got to where I could run 4 blocks, walk 1 block.  Yeah, I know, that still sounds pathetic.  Well, I thought I was awesome!  I would always make sure that I would be on the "run" portions when I went by a person... so I felt cool and fit.  I didn't particularly enjoy running, but the competitive spirit within me relished the idea of achieving something.  Problem was... I got bored.  I have a short attention span and get sick of things pretty quickly.  Running wasn't advancing quite as swiftly as I had hoped... and I didn't really feel like I enjoyed it.  I actually kind of dreaded going outside to run.  And thus ended my very short and very sorry attempt at running.  After 3 weeks.  

Last summer, I once again decided that I was going to start running.  I had a gym membership, and I was going to conquer the dreaded treadmill.  I had never in my life stepped foot on a treadmill.  I was terrified of them.  With my astoundingly low level of coordination (that is a story for another blog), I could just picture my feet flying out from under me and landing face first on the tread.  But, I sucked it up and started my walk/run routine once again.  This time, the hubby tried with me, so at least I had someone to try to "beat," which made it a bit more appealing to me.  I eventually got to where I could run an entire mile straight.  Then, hubby stopped going to the gym... and without someone to compete against, running lost all joy and purpose for me.  And, once again, I was done after a month or so.

In January, I made a list of New Year's resolutions.  One of them was to run a race.  This time, I was going to "get serious."  I went and bought new running shoes at a real running store.  I guess I figured that if I invested enough money in running, it would spur me to stick with it.  I bought cute new running clothes.  If I know anything, it's that girls are highly motivated by cute workout clothes.  Then, I started back running at the gym a couple of times a week.  I signed up for a 5k, and hubby signed up too.  I have enough pride to make myself be prepared for something that I've committed to.  So, I had that 5k looming in the future.  When it got warmer outside, I overcame my completely irrational fear of running outdoors (I don't like people watching me... shut up!).  I started running around my neighborhood... zigzagging through the streets, so I would never be too far away from home, you know, in case I got tired and decided to be done with my run.

Well, the 5k came, and I was ready to go.  I got there, and it started raining.  Thundering.  Lightning.  Pouring rain.  So, yes, they canceled the 5k.  I got my t-shirt and my medal, but I felt like a fraud.  I had signed up for my first race... but I hadn't run it... no matter what my awesome medal said.  This was it - my real test of whether I was going to stick with running this time.  This was my "get out of jail free" card.  I could just not sign up for another race.  I could quit!  But, instead, I found myself wanting to sign up for another race.  I had trained for it, dang it, and I wasn't going to let it go to waste!  I wanted to get my "under 30 minutes" goal.  Heck, I even went to the gym the day of the canceled 5k and ran a 5k on the treadmill (despite a fire alarm going off in the middle of it and having to evacuate the building... yes, I have bad luck).

So, riding the momentum of my disappointment from the canceled 5k, I signed up for a new 5k.  Then, I thought, heck, if I can do a 5k, I can do a 10k!  So, now I've signed up for a 10k and am training for that.  I've found, however, that I have to run farther away from my house in order to get a longer run in.  If I'm close by, I will quit before I am actually done.  Because I'm lazy.  If I run far enough away, then I have to run back!  This weekend, I actually ran about 5 miles.  I still have a little trouble believing that I actually did this of my own accord and without being chased or bribed in some way.  And, more troubling still... I actually enjoyed it and didn't feel like death afterward.

Is it possible?  Could I actually enjoy running?  I think the jury is still out on that one.  I enjoy the sense of accomplishment that comes with completing a run... and I like having a goal to train toward.  I know I will be proud to say I ran a 10k after it's done.  But, I am not sure if it's the task that I enjoy... or the accomplishment.

And, I don't know if I can ever call myself a "runner."  I am never running in the rain if I can help it, and sometimes I like to sleep instead of get up to run.  And, I have no desire to ever, ever run a marathon.  Actually, right now, the idea of running more than an hour is kind of nauseating.

So, no, I am not a runner.  I may never describe myself as a runner.  But, I am running.  And, I don't hate it.  Against all odds and expectations... especially my own.