I love to run

    I love to run. Okay, well, I’m not sure it’s the actual act of running that I love, but I can tell you, when it’s been too long, I have dreams about running. I ran track and cross country in middle school, but once I got to high school, my newspaper staff responsibilities took over my life, and I don’t think I laced up another running shoe until about 2010 when I started trying to lose weight for my wedding. Even then, it was short-lived.

    But in 2014, I got serious about losing some weight and I started with Couch to 5K. As time went on, I preached the amazing success I found with losing weight by running...and I’m sure that’s true, that it can help you lose weight and stay fit, but I wasn’t running for exercise or for enjoyment, I was running my weight off, and running away from food. I was dropping weight quickly and how it wasn’t obvious to everyone around me, I was heading down an unhealthy path. Or perhaps, it was obvious, but nobody really knew how to bring it up. See, I was running every day, usually about 3 miles, which isn’t much, but I was also eating very little. I was playing a fun game of calorie deficits and making sure that whatever I put in, I ran off. I did this pretty consistently for about two years. I went from about 190 to 130. Though I managed to do that for two years, it’s hardly sustainable. Still, no one ever called me out on sustaining myself through night shift with one gas station coffee/cappuccino combo. Every single, “Oh, you look great! You’ve lost so much weight! You’re so skinny!” was like a drug. I’ll tackle that in a future post, though.

    Eventually, running became about meeting goals. I would get serious about a training plan when the Rock n Roll half marathon would start approaching and I would throw myself into short runs and long runs and cross training. It became something I dreaded because I knew I had to do it to keep on track with my training plan, but I would get it done and eventually be happy with it, because when you cross the finish line at a half marathon, the feeling of accomplishment that you feel is pretty much indescribable. That made it totally worth it.

    Then 2020 hit. There were no races, I was stuck in the house with my son who was eLearning and I lost any and all motivation to run. Add a complicated pregnancy, and I ended the year with only nine runs the entire year. Sometime after Aiden was born, I kept having these dreams that I was running. I would wake up and miss it so much, but there just wasn’t time to fit it in the schedule. Until one day, I realized how important it was to make time for me. Running isn’t just about getting the exercise in, it’s not just about training for some upcoming race. It was my “me” time, and my time to be alone with my music. I started running again in June, but it was half hearted because I was upset that I couldn’t run as far and as fast as I used to. But then something changed. I slowed down. I started intentionally running at a slower pace and giving myself some grace. I started listening to podcasts while I ran. I made it about my “me” time, instead of about beating some clock.

    It’s been hard still at times, to see what my pace is and remember when I could fly through the neighborhood with 7:21 mile times, and maybe one day I will get back there, but my reasons for running have changed. I run for me, but I also think often of those who can’t run, and I run for them, too. I think of my grandparents and how towards the end of their lives, they couldn’t even stand to get out of bed, and I run for them. I run for people who sustained injuries and miss their runs. But I also still run for that skinny girl who was running so hard for a calorie deficit who thought that running was a short term plan to squeeze into her size 8 jeans. I’m still trying to prove to her that despite weighing more, despite being older, the value in the run goes much beyond whatever weight loss or health benefits it provides. It reminds me that “me” time is important for my mental health, it reminds me that I have the gift of being able to push my body to do things others can’t do, even if it’s not fitting into anywhere near those size 8 jeans.