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wiseautumn · 3 years

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Becoming a Runner

Over 5 years ago, I got it in my head that I needed to run. No, it was not something I was good at, or ever did. I mean, I ran to the fridge. I ran into a store. BUT I had never laced up my sneakers with the intent to run for an extended period of time. I signed up to run a mile race to raise money for a good cause. I was excited, and deep down in my heart, I felt that I could run lightning fast. I put on the t-shirt that was provided to all registered runners. I laced up my sneakers, that were only worn because they were cute. I was READY. I was excited. Stretching commenced. I ignored the fact that I could not touch my toes. I ignored all the naked legs and tinny shorts. I was eager to get this done. I was going to be faster than the speed of light. Now, let me just say, i had never, ever, ever, run for any extended period of time. I had never run 400 meters, let alone a mile, but that was not going to stop me. I continued to stretch and kick my knees up with the best of them. I was winded before the race even began. Time seemed to halt on its way to the start time. But I stayed focused.

Finally, start time had arrived. The national anthem played on, and I held on to my heart and watched the crowd as our patriotism and eagerness was one. I got my watch ready to track my race, so I can see how fast I could run a mile (with no training, no previous experience, no worries). I WAS READY....ON YOUR MARK, GET SET...GO!!!

The first three seconds a ran...lightning fast...eager to stay with the front runners. Eager to not let the huge crowd behind me catch up. The downhill pulled me forward, and i felt my legs render crazy arcs that made me feel like I was flying and might just face plant. Just keep pushing, the finish line is just around the corner. Well, I turned the corner, and hit an uphill, not the finish line. Anyone who tells you that a mile race is short is a liar!

I was winded. I was nauseous. My legs were shaking, and I did not know how far away the finish line really was. How far had I gotten? How much more did I have to push? Then, my lungs started to fight me. I started to cough. People started to ask if I was ok. I shrugged them off with laughter, and a smile, YEAH GREAT! But, inside, I was dying. I knew I had to walk it out. I fought back tears. I fought back the urge to quit. I had 5- and 6-year olds running past me in a full sprint. I had 70-year olds jogging past me comfortably. I was dying inside. I felt like a failure.

I cursed...a lot! I sneered at other runners that past me by. I yelled at myself. After each turn, waiting to see the finish line and being confronted with yet another uphill, I felt my will to keep going dwindle.

I do not know what the time clock said as I crossed the finish line that day. I do not remember what my pace was when it was all said and done. I did, however, achieve something that day. I promised myself that I would RUN a race. I would train and get ready. I would be a RUNNER! That is exactly the moment that I became a full-fledged runner.

The next day, I got up and went for a run. Everything hurt and I hated every minute of it. For months, I hated how “slow” I was. How winded and unfit I felt with every foot fall.

5 years later, and here we are. On November 1, 2020, I was supposed to get up and run the NYC Marathon. It was supposed to be my first NYC Marathon, and my second marathon to date. The NYC Marathon was going to celebrate 50 years! I was excited, until COVID ran its own race, and life got cancelled. But I didn’t stop training and I did not give up. I signed up to run virtually and made a pact with myself (and maybe the devil) that I would do it alone and cross the virtual finish line on November 1st.

26.2 miles of waves, wrong turns, uphills, cheers, and tears. My sneaker pounded pavement for over 5 hours. I was not going to quit, even when my legs felt numb and my hip flexors were screaming. My cheer squad, that I convinced to meet me at certain checkpoints in case I needed anything, asked me if I was ok. For the first ten miles, I was honestly OK. I felt good. I was excited...I was running too fast! I did not know it at the time, but I was moving faster than my planned pace, and I would be paying for it greatly. I went from Queens to Brooklyn back into Queens with a pace that was more along the pace for a 10K. I was running on adrenaline, and I was lost in the surroundings. Crossing over the Kosciuszko Bridge, and seeing the city skyline. My heart filled with pride. I kicked a little harder. I pushed a little faster. I was burning through my reserve tank and I was not even 5 miles in yet!

By the time I was back in Flushing, my legs were starting to burn. I was starting to realize; I went out way to fast. I knew where my finish line was, and I knew I had a long way to go. I fueled up. I stayed hydrated. Knowing that my cheer squad was counting on me and gave up their morning to follow me around, made me keep going. I had moments that reminded me of that first mile race. I was nauseous. I was tired. My lungs burned. I wanted to quit a thousand times. But I HAD TO KEEP GOING. I knew how far I had to still go, but my legs were on fire. My brain was a buzz with what turn came next.

By mile 20, I was lost in the maze of Flushing Meadows Corona Park. I could see the Unisphere and knew that my family was waiting to see me cross the finish line. I pushed. I walked. I cursed. I had a long conversation with myself. For 20 weeks, I had trained for this. For 20 weeks, my life had been about running 26.2 miles. Not about how fast I could do it but DOING IT! Queens is my home; I know the turns well. I know how far I had left. Other runners waved and gave me the thumbs up. People smiled and cheered me on. Dogs ran up to me and greeted me with excitement. I kept going!

Why am I sharing this with you? Living takes grit. Accomplishing your goals is like running a marathon. You have to stay the course. You have to curse at yourself and listen to the internal dialogue. When your legs are on fire, you push a little harder. When you hit an uphill, swing those arms. Talk yourself through the hard. When you cross the finish line, let it wash over you. Enjoy that moment. Look around you. See what you did!

I run because it is my happy place. Some folks go to church, I go to run. I am at peace in those moments. I smile at cute dogs. I wave to fellow runners. Some days are fast and easy. Some days, I dread every step. But, when I am done, I am centered and ready to be fully me, immersed in what the day holds. Running is for me. For my body. For my mind. Running is the one sport that has provided me with support, camaraderie and endless goals for a happier and healthier version of me. I have met the most amazing people. I run with the most caring and supporting crew. If I knew this on that day 5 years ago, I may have cursed a little less. I may have pushed a little harder. But I wouldn’t change a thing. Life is a marathon, fuel up and stay hydrated folks!

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