A Year of Running

May will be my one year anniversary for taking up running. I'm not sure at what point you could say I went from trying to run to actually being a runner. "Runner" had an awkward, uneasy feeling in my mouth for so long and despite the consistent three runs a week I did through the summer I just didn't feel like I was worthy of such a title. I am by no means a fast runner. I'm still striving to hit my first 5k time under 30 minutes. But at some point between those grueling summer weeks of Couch 2 5k and my second half marathon in December, the title of runner felt like a badge of pride and something I had earned.

For all of those that are still new to running or are unsure if you could ever be a runner, I hope this inspires you to not give up. I struggled for many weeks. Some of those Couch 2 5k sessions seemed impossible so I repeated them. There were days I dreaded going outside to run, but I did it anyway. I was scared to try an event, but I signed up anyway. I was intimidated to have my stepdad join me for the event (he's a lifelong runner and marathoner), but he came and ran by my side the whole way. Being a runner is being a part of this inclusive family, whether you are running a 5 minute mile or barely walking a 20 minute mile. It's the decision that you are not going to simply sit on the couch. You are going to move. Your legs are going to carry you.

I connected to the road and left my stress and troubles there, pounding the pavement apologetically. It has taken every emotion I have thrown at it, filled me with a sense of accomplishment and set me at peace when the only thing that made sense in my life was to run. The smells of my country road through the seasons are comforts and familiar to me, as is every crack and incline on those roads.

My running is routine and without it I get moody. Dressing for a run has become routine. I have a set process of gauging the temp for how I'm going to dress for the run. I prepare myself mentally as I put on my run clothes. My mind races and gets focused on the run as I lace up my shoes. Adrenalin and anticipation mount as I set my phone for my playlist and strap on my armband. It's an addiction that improves your life and leaves you feeling so emptied and filled at the same time.

I've pushed my limits as a new runner, increasing distance and pushing my pace. While I've been lucky to avoid injuries, I've adopted running aches. My hip aches after a long run, my knee is sore the next day from a hard run. These are accepted as minor inconveniences and don't deter me from the next run. I've backed off of hard runs and long runs after my last half. The cold air and ice have pushed me onto a treadmill. It's still running but it's lost the luster and thrill of chasing the pavement. I eagerly wait for the weekends with good weather for that outdoor run.

I didn't love running a year ago and running didn't love me. It's something I have grown to respect and in turn respect myself more for sticking to it and pushing through when it got tough. I remember how far I've come. I was once told I had COPD. I was once a smoker. I took pre-diabetic prescriptions to ward off insulin resistance. I was told I needed to go on heart medication and that my triglycerides and cholesterol were going to give me a heart attack. I have overcome all of these obstacles and with every step, every footfall leads me further and further away from that person I once was. Running unshackled me and continues to let me go as far as I'm willing to push myself.