I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a book, a memoir, if you will, of all my running tales thus far in my short life. Many nights are spent sleepless… in Seattle (I’ve always wanted to say that, and as a new resident of Seattle, WA, I finally can!) and so I’ve finally decided to put to good use the many hours of the night that I’m awake. So instead of watching television, or reading, or doing any sort of work for school, I’ll start my book. But the word BOOK, or NOVEL, just sounds completely intimidating. Ridiculous for a math teacher to have the lofty goal of writing a BOOK, I say to my cat Henry, but anyone can blog. And if someone actually takes interest in my blog, it is even better, without the major letdown of a failed book. Henry meows back his agreement.
I started running in high school, just like any girl starts running in high school: there were cute boys on the track team. For no other reason than that, I decided to join the indoor track winter of my sophomore year in 2001, because of the cutest senior in the whole school: Adam. Every girl in the entire school knew Adam, and every girl wanted to be the one on his arm that month. I thought my only chance at that eternal month of happiness was to run track, get to know him, snag him, and have that month of happiness. Little did I know that the two seasons I spent with the Francis Scott Key High School track team that year would change who I was and shape my future into what it is today, and little did I know that running would be such a huge part of my life.
This week of my life: no running. Saturday my love and I went for a little jog around my new, sleepless, city, and we came upon a sidewalk covered in leaves…dangerous territory for ANY runner, especially one like me, with horrible ankles. And so it goes: I rolled my very bad left ankle in a pretty severe roll, to the point I could not finish running the run. And so a week of no running…when you are not able to do something is when you want it the most. Perhaps another reason to start my book, I mean, my blog, now… no running, no big deal, I’ll just write about it.
So I ran track for a year in high school, and I did get my month or two of complete and utter high school happiness on the arm of the cutest senior at school, but I HATED running track. I was in wicked shape after the two seasons (indoor and outdoor) and I looked and felt fantastic, but I HATED the competition of track. I hated the feel of butterflies at the start line, the feel of not ever running fast enough or good enough for my team, for myself, and track, mentally, left me exhausted and disgusted with my inability to be excellent at running. I was not, nor am I to this day, a sprinter, but somehow, back in high school, I knew better than my running coach, and I refused to compete in any event longer than 800 meters. My coach continually pushed me to run distance, saying I would do well in the mile or two mile if I put my mind to it, but that sounded like such a LONG distance (no one runs 2 miles and lives to tell the tale). Had I listened to my coach, I may have found some success on the track team, but sticking with short sprints that my body type is not made for created a lack of success that played a tough game mentally on me. I had always been successful: with my academics (high school valedictorian), with music, with church, with local 4-h, and so my first encounter with failure (or lack of perfection) wasn't easy. Track made me realize two things: I hated competition when I couldn’t actually compete well enough, and I really didn’t like running. I decided to stick to what I was good at: academics, and stay away from the running and the cute seniors. Not worth the emotional distress.
I spent my last year in high school focused on academics (and maybe another boy or two...) and got out of high school a year early, as a junior, and promptly started at the local college working on a BA in Mathematics with a minor in Secondary Education. That was it: my whole life was mapped out. I would meet a wonderful man in college, teach, have cute babies, and stay naturally thin and cute my whole life.
So when did I start to realize running was a good thing? Was it when I gained just a few pounds freshman year of college, and was vain enough to put on the shoes and go for a run to justify the few pounds? Was it because my best friend, for 3 years of college, was a runner, and willing to go slower for me just to run with me? Was it because I got it into my head sophomore year that I needed to be healthier and take better care of my body? I haven't a clue when I started running, but it was between freshman and sophomore year of college, sometime in that area. And it clearly wasn't life altering, since I can't remember the first run since the miserable double track season. But sometime, somewhere, I went for a run, and it stuck.
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