It's funny that as active as I was as a child that running was not something that I realized that I loved. It was just something that we did as we were having fun. In fact I look back and remember those P.E. tests that I just dreaded in school... you know the ones that you have a certain amount of time to run a mile. I look back at those and started thinking, "I have never ran a mile straight without stopping one single time in my life". At least it was not something that I had done and was aware of it. I was the typical girl that sat and chatted with my friends, the coach would yell and tell us to get going, so we would run awhile, then stop and walk/chat and then run again when we knew that our time was short. It was a little shocking for me to realize that as a 30-something Mom I had never run a mile in my life.
This became my new goal in life. As sad as it is, I had the goal of running 1, yes 1 mile without stopping. I started by going to the track at our local high school with a few of my children, I was not about to do this alone. After getting some advice from a mother of 9 children who had an awesomely fit body and she was a runner, I took off. I simply started by running (well slowly jogging) the straights and walking the curves. It took about a week of doing this before I was brave enough to try running 1 WHOLE lap! I say that with a little smirk but I remember the feeling of sheer accomplishment when that day arrived. I continued this pattern until I could do 2 WHOLE laps and so on.
Finally the day arrived, about a month after starting my intense training (hahaha... only appreciated by those who share my poor condition) that I was going to be brave enough to try a whole mile. I felt strong, I felt confident and it was time. I took off and after about a lap I questioned my ability to really do this, but decided that I was not going to stop. If my legs were going to stay attached to my body they were going to get me through this mile. By the last lap (which happened to be on my treadmill that day due to the extreme Texas heat), my children had gathered around and were cheering me on. They appreciated what an accomplishment this was for me after going to the track with me so often over that last month. This drove me further to make sure that I finished that 1 mile mark. When that 1 mile light was flashing, I couldn't help but break down and cry. Something that was so easy for so many fit people had been a HUGE accomplishment for me. My eyes were filled with tears and my ears were filled with the cheers of my children.
I made sure to hit the treadmill the next day just to make sure that I could do it again. I did. But I knew that I had to go run on the track to make it really feel official. It didn't help that there was a skinny, little, young thing in my ward at church that made a comment to me once. She said something along the lines of "Well running on the treadmill is easy, I could do that all day long, it isn't anything compared to running outdoors". This then became the challenge that I had to prove to myself that I could do it either way. Guess what? Running on the track did feel different on my muscles than on the treadmill. I wouldn't go so far as to say that the treadmill didn't count but I certainly could feel a different set of muscles being used as I was projecting my self more than I would just running in place. None the less, I was just as able to run outdoors as I was on the treadmill. The biggest difference was the lack of my treadmill fan blowing on me and cooling me verses the warmth of the Texas sun beating down on me with no breeze.
After that first mile, I was addicted to that feeling of accomplishment. Once again, I realize how pathetic that must sound to someone who is an accomplished runner. But that was a life lesson for me, I could work a step at a time and become stronger and stronger. The end of the race wasn't where you gained the feeling of being a winner, it really was the journey and the strength you gain along the way. My next goal was in sight... I was going to begin training for a 5K.
This became my new goal in life. As sad as it is, I had the goal of running 1, yes 1 mile without stopping. I started by going to the track at our local high school with a few of my children, I was not about to do this alone. After getting some advice from a mother of 9 children who had an awesomely fit body and she was a runner, I took off. I simply started by running (well slowly jogging) the straights and walking the curves. It took about a week of doing this before I was brave enough to try running 1 WHOLE lap! I say that with a little smirk but I remember the feeling of sheer accomplishment when that day arrived. I continued this pattern until I could do 2 WHOLE laps and so on.
Finally the day arrived, about a month after starting my intense training (hahaha... only appreciated by those who share my poor condition) that I was going to be brave enough to try a whole mile. I felt strong, I felt confident and it was time. I took off and after about a lap I questioned my ability to really do this, but decided that I was not going to stop. If my legs were going to stay attached to my body they were going to get me through this mile. By the last lap (which happened to be on my treadmill that day due to the extreme Texas heat), my children had gathered around and were cheering me on. They appreciated what an accomplishment this was for me after going to the track with me so often over that last month. This drove me further to make sure that I finished that 1 mile mark. When that 1 mile light was flashing, I couldn't help but break down and cry. Something that was so easy for so many fit people had been a HUGE accomplishment for me. My eyes were filled with tears and my ears were filled with the cheers of my children.
I made sure to hit the treadmill the next day just to make sure that I could do it again. I did. But I knew that I had to go run on the track to make it really feel official. It didn't help that there was a skinny, little, young thing in my ward at church that made a comment to me once. She said something along the lines of "Well running on the treadmill is easy, I could do that all day long, it isn't anything compared to running outdoors". This then became the challenge that I had to prove to myself that I could do it either way. Guess what? Running on the track did feel different on my muscles than on the treadmill. I wouldn't go so far as to say that the treadmill didn't count but I certainly could feel a different set of muscles being used as I was projecting my self more than I would just running in place. None the less, I was just as able to run outdoors as I was on the treadmill. The biggest difference was the lack of my treadmill fan blowing on me and cooling me verses the warmth of the Texas sun beating down on me with no breeze.
After that first mile, I was addicted to that feeling of accomplishment. Once again, I realize how pathetic that must sound to someone who is an accomplished runner. But that was a life lesson for me, I could work a step at a time and become stronger and stronger. The end of the race wasn't where you gained the feeling of being a winner, it really was the journey and the strength you gain along the way. My next goal was in sight... I was going to begin training for a 5K.
No comments:
Post a Comment