Running

In 1999 I ran the Bolder Boulder half-marathon. I had grown up running track and cross-country and marked that race as a major accomplishment for my adult self. I finished that race, I took off my running shoes, and I never put them back on again. There was no particular reason - I was just done. In the twenty-plus years since, I’ve coached several sports and done a fair amount of recreational walking & hiking, but my years of calling myself a runner were essentially over. 

When the pandemic hit and we all went home to our houses in March, I found myself without a Spring Play to direct or any sporting events to attend. We had nowhere to go and nothing to do...so the family decided we would leave the house every day at 4:00 and do something outside. Sometimes we walked, sometimes we biked - the girls almost always chose running, of course. Aaron decided he would try to keep up with the girls and challenged himself to run with them as far as he could for as long as he could. Cooper and I did our own thing... usually biking along behind and talking about everything under the sun.

Then one day Cooper put on his running shoes and decided he was going to be a runner as well. I jumped on my bike and chatted with him, encouraging along the way while he huffed and puffed - sometimes running, sometimes walking. On May 17th - I know the date exactly because I had been tracking mileage for the girls - we were out for our usual afternoon trip. Somewhere around the two-mile mark, Cooper got a terrible cramp and decided he needed my bike. Aaron said, “no big deal, Mom can run.” I looked at him like he was insane. No, Mom cannot “run.” Mom does not “run.” I believe we all stood there for about five minutes arguing this point.

But that day, Mom ran. (And here’s where you should stop reading if you don’t want TMI, because I’m all about recording the truth here and now for posterity.) It was awful. I was awful. Like, terrible. Like, really really really bad. I could only run about half a block at a time because three kids and no running for twenty years will ruin your muscle control and I peed a little bit every single dang step. (See? I told you to stop reading.)

Anyway. I got home, peeled off my clothes, threw them in the washing machine and sat around feeling sorry for my miserable self the rest of the day. The next morning I got up by myself, put on some shoes, and went for a run. I made it about two blocks and then I turned around and walked home. No kidding.

And then I got up the next morning and did it again. And so on and so on, almost every single day since May 17th. In the middle of June we tried out the trails at Cedar Creek Park. By then I could almost do a whole mile - running a little and walking a little, but I could just about do a mile. There are two loops at CCP - a flat loop up top that’s about a third of a mile if you run on the outside edge. And then there’s the VERY hilly trail loop that’s about two miles long from start to finish. I became very fond of the short loop. It’s flat, and three laps equals a mile - if felt doable. I decided I would do one mile every single day until I could finish without walking. 

I hit that milestone in early July. Then...I set my sights on the other one...the hill loop. I tried and I tried and I tried...for weeks, I tried. I just could NOT do it. The hills are too much for my old knees. I gave up at the end of July and decided to distract myself by diversifying. I would run/walk two miles on flat land and then switch to my bike. I still LOVE biking - and I was able to get myself up to doing 8-10 miles regularly. It was kind of my consolation prize - the further I can go on the bike the better I felt about my failure at the hill loop.

This whole long story culminates today - August 22nd. I woke up this morning and said to myself, “Well, Sara. You go back to school in about two weeks. You’ve had a great summer...but there’s one thing you said you were going to do and you still haven’t done it.” I drove out to Cedar Creek Park, worrying all the way that I was setting myself up for a big disappointment. I promised myself I would go slow and just see what happened.

And then I did it. 

I ran it. The whole thing. No walking. 2.25 miles, actually, because I felt so dang good I ran a little extra. I credit the bike - I think I was missing the muscle strength in my legs to handle the hills, and the bike is all about the legs. When I finished I was so tired and so excited and so happy I cried all the way to my car. I bumped into a couple of friends who were just in time to see me blubbering over finishing - they had to listen to me laugh-cry the whole story.

I’m recording this today to remind myself that I can still do anything I decide I want to do. It was not easy, it was not always fun, and some days my setbacks were downright depressing. It took me five months to do something that I used to be able to do without any trouble - but I did it. And I needed to remember that I can do hard things. Especially because a Very Hard Thing is coming up in September. 

I think I can maybe call myself a runner again. Dang. That sure feels good.

**Shout-Out to Amber, my accountability partner. Thanks for sending me encouraging snaps and texts at least three times a week to keep me going and also for not judging me on the days that I was complete trash. :)  Also big love to Nike Air Pegasus because they’re the only shoes I’ve ever been able to wear when I run. They came through again, though it would sure be nice if they didn’t cost a fortune. Just saying. And also - SheFit and Enell. My chest makes it really hard to run - like painful. (I told you to stop reading, but if you’ve met me in person, it’s not like this is a big mystery.) Anyway...if you, like me, don't run because it hurts, spend the money on a sports bra from one of these two companies. Game changers.**