One foot, then the other
Tuesday, March 9, 2010 at 2:32PM I signed up for a half marathon a few months ago, back when I fell in love with running and thought it was my new BFF.
Back-to-back blizzards, debilitating anxiety and a surprising bout of ugly depression sidelined the daily runs for a spell.
But I put the jogging shoes back on my feet this past weekend and officially started the three-month training regimen.
Turns out: I hate running just as much as I thought I did lo those many years ago.
My passionate affair with pounding asphalt seems to have been a brief flirtation, at best. I thought I was running down the noise of the day, the chaos of the house and four kids. Now that perspective is on my side, I'm fairly certain I was trying to escape the death grip of unfamiliar panic attacks.
In the interim, I started seeing an acupuncturist and therapist, started medicine for the menopause and started a cocktail of natural supplements. One or all of those quieted the anxiety and, also, rubbed the luster from the running.
The snow mostly melted by Saturday. The weather warmed, the sun shined and the roads filled with weekend warriors on bike and on foot. I was one of them. And I was miserable. Breathless by the first stop sign. Heave ho-ing by the second. Ready to rip my shirt off and head home by the third.
"What did I get myself into?" I sputtered.
I pushed myself to the half-way mark. Then willed myself home.
It was not a pretty or auspicious start to the countdown to race day.
"It's just one run," a friend counseled. "The next one will be much better."
Only it wasn't. In fact, it felt worse. I bargained with myself the entire 2.6 miles. Make it to the next street and then you can stop, I said. When I got there, I'd tell myself the same thing and do you know? I made it the whole way without stopping, then burst into the house barely able to breathe and so thoroughly disgusted with my shabby performance that I didn't stop bitching about it for 15 minutes.
I'm not quitting the race, though. I can't. I've been cursed since birth with stubbornness and pride and I'll crawl into the stadium in Annapolis before I admit defeat.
My father used to tell us on relentless, hard climbs to just put one foot in front of the other. It's something he learned in mountain school. Or maybe Army training. Anyway, it's an apt directive for life... as well as this tedious, ridiculous adventure I've embarked on.
Reader Comments (4)
One foot in front of the other...it is a mantra for life in our house. Fortunately, we'll get to the stadium together.
Keep up the good work, Dana! You can do it!
Martha
(from Lisa's house)
P.S. Love the blog.
I vote for tossing the "musts" and "shoulds" out the window! You're healthy, you're a superhero to everyone who knows you, you can do full lotus.
Do what you love, love what you do. That's my mantra.
So says the woman who signed up for the breast cancer walk and is now limping around with two suddenly and mysteriously bad knees... I've done one training walk that went incredibly well. Now looking at my upcoming Saturdays and trying to figure out when and how I'll be able to schedule another 2-hour training walk.
Wow, I really admire you for taking on a half marathon! However, that is an awfully serious commitment for someone who claims to hate running so much. I agree with Suz - quit shoulding all over yourself and do what you love! However, if you're determined to take up running again and love it, maybe table the half marathon for a while and ease back in with 5k and 10k races. Check out http://www.runtex.com/runtexu/training/5K/default.asp for a GREAT 5k training (12 weeks) with great articles! I personally like the middle column on the training tips for "First Time Runners or Getting Back Into Shape" whenever I make my return to running. Bonus: You only have to run 2-3 times for the first few weeks under that plan!