in college i liked to run. i’ve never been very good at it, and continue to have abysmal pacing skills and a lack of inner strength to push myself (oh how that is such a symptom of most aspects of my life). when i started riding bikes more consistently before leaving new jersey, and then all the time when moving to philadelphia, running fell by the wayside and was quickly forgotten.
over the eight years since moving to philadelphia, i’ve tried running again a few times and found that i have grown to hate it. the slowness, compared to riding, the pacing, the need to push myself in so many different ways than long distance riding. and yet, in the fall of 2012, i started flirting with running again. i signed up for a few runs and ran with friends. motivation to take myself out for a run, especially in the winter, is hard to find but it is starting to get better.
so in february, valentine’s day to be specific, i ran my first 5k in 45 minutes and felt pretty good about that. in march, with a good friend, i ran a 5 mile run in 1 hour and felt pretty good about that. in april, by myself, i ran a 5k in 45 again and continued to feel pretty good about that. i am such a slow runner but at the place i am in life right now i’m more interested in the committing to something mentally and sometimes physically difficult and actually completing it. my PR each and every time is going to the run and finishing. maybe i’m too soft on myself (well, i know i am) but this feels like the right goal.
and then i signed up for a half marathon. the run is in late october 2013, which leaves me plenty of time to keep running and get used to runs longer than 5 miles. running is such a mental game for me, but then again post-breakup depression makes most things in life a mental game of motivation. i started “training” this week and ran the stairs of the Art Museum last night with some friends. even at the hardest, fastest scurries up the stairs taking them two at a time, my body felt like exploding with pain and yet it felt so good mentally, emotionally, and physically. so i’m still continuing to run and every day is a struggle to get out of bed and put on running shoes. i don’t really know what i’m getting out of it yet, other than learning that it’s ok to push myself and it’s ok to try and run through my emotions and it’s ok to set the bar a bit high knowing that i might fall flat on my face.
i still hate running. but i’m starting to love myself.
so that’s something.