Run like the wind... or a very slow, gentle breeze
All my life I've hated running.
I was always slower than everyone else. Always pushing too hard to try to keep up. Always trying to run at someone else's pace. I'd end up getting stomach cramps and ear aches (weird, I know) and shin splints and horribly sore muscles and most of all, a feeling of total defeat.
When I was on the ski team in high school, I was always one of the last runners to make it back to the coach when we were training.
On the crew team in college, I always seemed to be the last one to get to the boathouse (we had to run from the Simmons campus to the BU boathouse before practice. Being the coxswain, I was a lot shorter than all the athletes, so it makes sense they were a lot faster than me. Instead of acknowledging this, I tried to keep up. Predictably, I was constantly pushing too hard, never finding my own pace.
I quit. And never tried to run again. The math? It's been 23 years.
Over the summer, I saw someone post about the Couch to 5K Challenge. Curious, I went to the site and looked at the schedule. For some reason, I was inspired. I have no idea what I was thinking. I've never liked running so I don't know why I thought this would be any different. But I have been trying to figure out what kind of exercise I could do that doesn't cost any money and this seemed to be the obvious choice.
I asked my son if he wanted to try with me and he said yes. Hey, we're the same height, so maybe I could keep up! Sure enough, each time we started to run he would bolt ahead of me, and I felt too slow. But when it was time to walk, he'd turn back and meet up with me, and we'd go again. I figured we were both getting desperately-needed exercise, and even though it felt a bit torturous always falling behind, I kept at it.
When my son started school, I was determined to keep going. This was the first time in over 20 years I was getting real exercise and I was not going to give up. The first day I went out, I noticed how quiet it was. Just me, my breathing (panting, gasping) and the distant sounds of the farm down the road. It was hard. Really. Really hard. But each day I met the goal. I started posting my progress on Facebook. The cheers there kept me going. Not only that, other friends got inspired to try it too! And now we e-mail each other with our progress and tips, and we've got a supportive community. (Does this sound familiar, JoNo-ers?)
Every day I run, I think about how hard it's going to be. And it is. I feel like I'm doing some kind of old lady shuffle more than I'm running. But I'm moving. And I'm outside. And I've enjoyed the fall this year more than I can remember ever enjoying it. It's amazing how my little world changes every day. The trees change color. The air smells thicker and thicker of dried leaves. The sounds from haying switch to sounds of fertilizing to just quiet. Quiet enough that now I can hear the cows mooing in the distance. The fields are changing from green to brown. It's all just.... well it's just lovely.
Every time I go out, I feel like I am sharing this very private moment with the space around me in a way I never have. I know it sounds silly, but that's the way it is.
On Wednesday, I start the last batch of runs before I reach the goal: Running thirty minutes or three miles. So far, I am running the alloted time but not quite reaching the distance. So, I'll just keep going until I do. Running a bit farther each week, seeing a bit more of my road close up. The trees. The birds. The chipmunks. The sweet cows. The occasional dog walkers. And I will do it at my own pace.
Everything changes when you are not trying to keep up with someone else. Everything changes when you are doing something just for you. In your own way. When you stop focusing on your pain or pace or heart rate and simply move forward.
Yes, yes. I'm sure you can tell I am slowly finding a connection to writing. I can't help myself. It's all there! And it's so wonderfully obvious! Run your own run. Don't compare yourself to the rest of the pack. Well... I don't need to spell it all out. But every time I put on my sneakers and feel a bit of doubt or like I just don't have the energy to get out there, I remember that's what I thought the last time. But I still did it. It was hard, and exhausting, and there were moments I thought I'd give up. But... I still did it.
And you can, too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday morning warm-up:
Take a walk (or run!) down your road with new eyes. New ears. New nose. What do you see? Hear? Smell? Write a list poem or paragraph to tell us all about it.
I was always slower than everyone else. Always pushing too hard to try to keep up. Always trying to run at someone else's pace. I'd end up getting stomach cramps and ear aches (weird, I know) and shin splints and horribly sore muscles and most of all, a feeling of total defeat.
When I was on the ski team in high school, I was always one of the last runners to make it back to the coach when we were training.
On the crew team in college, I always seemed to be the last one to get to the boathouse (we had to run from the Simmons campus to the BU boathouse before practice. Being the coxswain, I was a lot shorter than all the athletes, so it makes sense they were a lot faster than me. Instead of acknowledging this, I tried to keep up. Predictably, I was constantly pushing too hard, never finding my own pace.
I quit. And never tried to run again. The math? It's been 23 years.
Over the summer, I saw someone post about the Couch to 5K Challenge. Curious, I went to the site and looked at the schedule. For some reason, I was inspired. I have no idea what I was thinking. I've never liked running so I don't know why I thought this would be any different. But I have been trying to figure out what kind of exercise I could do that doesn't cost any money and this seemed to be the obvious choice.
I asked my son if he wanted to try with me and he said yes. Hey, we're the same height, so maybe I could keep up! Sure enough, each time we started to run he would bolt ahead of me, and I felt too slow. But when it was time to walk, he'd turn back and meet up with me, and we'd go again. I figured we were both getting desperately-needed exercise, and even though it felt a bit torturous always falling behind, I kept at it.
When my son started school, I was determined to keep going. This was the first time in over 20 years I was getting real exercise and I was not going to give up. The first day I went out, I noticed how quiet it was. Just me, my breathing (panting, gasping) and the distant sounds of the farm down the road. It was hard. Really. Really hard. But each day I met the goal. I started posting my progress on Facebook. The cheers there kept me going. Not only that, other friends got inspired to try it too! And now we e-mail each other with our progress and tips, and we've got a supportive community. (Does this sound familiar, JoNo-ers?)
Every day I run, I think about how hard it's going to be. And it is. I feel like I'm doing some kind of old lady shuffle more than I'm running. But I'm moving. And I'm outside. And I've enjoyed the fall this year more than I can remember ever enjoying it. It's amazing how my little world changes every day. The trees change color. The air smells thicker and thicker of dried leaves. The sounds from haying switch to sounds of fertilizing to just quiet. Quiet enough that now I can hear the cows mooing in the distance. The fields are changing from green to brown. It's all just.... well it's just lovely.
Every time I go out, I feel like I am sharing this very private moment with the space around me in a way I never have. I know it sounds silly, but that's the way it is.
On Wednesday, I start the last batch of runs before I reach the goal: Running thirty minutes or three miles. So far, I am running the alloted time but not quite reaching the distance. So, I'll just keep going until I do. Running a bit farther each week, seeing a bit more of my road close up. The trees. The birds. The chipmunks. The sweet cows. The occasional dog walkers. And I will do it at my own pace.
Everything changes when you are not trying to keep up with someone else. Everything changes when you are doing something just for you. In your own way. When you stop focusing on your pain or pace or heart rate and simply move forward.
Yes, yes. I'm sure you can tell I am slowly finding a connection to writing. I can't help myself. It's all there! And it's so wonderfully obvious! Run your own run. Don't compare yourself to the rest of the pack. Well... I don't need to spell it all out. But every time I put on my sneakers and feel a bit of doubt or like I just don't have the energy to get out there, I remember that's what I thought the last time. But I still did it. It was hard, and exhausting, and there were moments I thought I'd give up. But... I still did it.
And you can, too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday morning warm-up:
Take a walk (or run!) down your road with new eyes. New ears. New nose. What do you see? Hear? Smell? Write a list poem or paragraph to tell us all about it.
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