Living Outside The Lines: “Birth Of A Runner”

Have you ever longed to do something?  Ever looked wistfully at others who were actually doing it, but thought you would never be able to join them?  I was like that with running. 

 

I yearned to run a 5K and watched enviously as runners put in their miles.  Growing up, my sports were gymnastics and cheerleading, who was I kidding thinking I might ever be able to run?

 

The hospital in San Marcos has a walking trail.  I had heard all about it, but never actually visited.  Finally I made up my mind to at least start walking.  Every day after work I would go to the hospital and put in several miles, and every day I watched as the runners gracefully trotted by.  Once, when no one was watching, I even tried running myself, but I quickly got winded.

 

One afternoon my husband joined me. I shared with him my desire to run, but explained how I had tried and failed. He ran track in both high school and college plus he coached at the junior high level so he knows a little about the sport.  When he said, “Show me, “ I didn’t hesitate.  When I finished, he gave me the greatest gift possible, permission to run slowly.  He simply said, “you’re running too fast, slow down and you’ll be able to go further.” 

 

My next time at the track, I was able to run a full three miles without any breathing difficulties.  After that I was focused, training six days a week, and eventually registering for my first 5K. The next few paragraphs are a first hand look into that race experience:

 

Shoes comfortably laced, calves suitably stretched, apprehensively awaiting the official start.  There I stood, 42 years old running my first 5K.  Random thoughts played through my mind, “What if my shoe comes untied?” “What if I have to pee?” “What if get stuck in pack of slow runners?”  “What if I can’t breathe properly?”  “What if I take a wrong turn and get lost?”  Desperate for answers but finding none, I took a deep breath and told myself to, “Shut up.”  No sense in psyching myself out before I even have a chance to get sweaty.

 

And they’re off, hundreds of pairs of feet heading the same direction at once.  Sprinters pulled away quickly leading the pack from start to finish.  Eager students ran hard succumbing to exhaustion a mile into the race.  Me?  I ran my own race, rhythmic, steady, comfortable and alone.  Competing against only myself I cared little whether anyone passed me.  Admittedly, I did feel a smidgen of pride pulling ahead of any male, or female appearing younger than me.

 

Physically, I was prepared for this race.  My training regimen included five-mile runs three days a week, cardio/weight training two days, and an extended run on Saturdays.  Mentally, I was blind-sided.  The terrain was unfamiliar providing no landmarks in which to track my pace.  I had no Garmin.  I was completely reliant on my body as a measurement of progress. 

 

Mile marker one provided a sense of relief, one third of the race completed.  Mile marker two seemed an enigma that might never appear.  Mile marker three perched tauntingly atop a hill.

 

Crossing the finish line with shaking legs, vomiting would have provided a welcome relief.  Instead, I graciously accepted a half bagel from a smiling volunteer. 

 

With no official timer, I obediently turned in my #72 tongue depressor & awaited the race results.  Eyeing other participants, attempting to gauge their ages, I wondered who would place in the “Female 40-44” division.  As winners were named, my heart thudded so loudly I barely heard, “First Place, Becky Miller.”

 

Winning was not my reason for entering, but it definitely fueled my competitive nature & provided motivation for me to continue on.  

 

Five years have passed since I completed that first 5K and my passion has increased to include even greater distances:  10K, 15K, half marathon and even one full marathon.  The half marathon, 13.1 miles, is my absolute favorite distance, not too incredibly difficult, but neither is it what one could call easy.

 

What is the thing you secretly yearn to do?  That thing you think is impossible?  Perhaps, like me, you just need someone to tell you it is okay to give it a try.  So here I am telling you, “Go for it!”  What if you fail?  So what.  But, what if you don’t?  What if, like me, you discover it’s something you do well? 

 

There is absolutely no shame in trying and failing.  The true shame lies in having never tried.  You don’t have to live with regret and its cruel cousins, “should have”, “could have” and “would have”.  Come on, give it try; I dare you!

 

Until Next Time,

 

Becky J. Miller

“Warrior Princess”