As a child I used to run on gravel and dirt roads, through woods, stopping to splash in creeks (cricks, where I’m originally from) and I would even do a few victory laps around my circle driveway. I used to imagine myself winning the race, spurred on by loud cheers from friends, family and very vocal strangers.
At some point, I grew out of running; I slowly gave up track… then basketball. (Believe it or not, I used to love suicides. Despite being shorter than your average female basketball player by 7 or 8 inches, I could sprint like my arse was on fire) I concentrated on music and other such artsy fartsy stuff.
In college I’d throw on the tennies for a run/walk every once in a while; I’d usually grab a friend and we’d gab more than we ran.
After college I decided I’d run races for fun.
I don’t know who I thought I was… I am not that 10 year old, flitting from rock to rock, flying down the country road, barely breaking a sweat. Nonetheless I trained for a 12k.
I noticed that my feet would fall asleep after 30 minutes of running. Consulted a doctor who thought that I wasn’t built for distance running. (If you’ve seen my backside and hips, you’d agree with her!) She suggested I cross train.
Done.
Now I run a few times a week, usually less than 3 miles at a time, take spin class, peel my sticky self off of a pilates reformer machine, rock out in a hoop class and OM through the occasional yoga class. I look for the excitement in not just conquering the 8 minute mile, but finding that crazy feeling of strength that comes from a perfect teaser, the immense joy in pretending to punch the lights out of the moron who cut you off on the way to boxing class, and even the satisfaction that comes from a perfect set of push-ups. Every single time I enter the gym, I hope to challenge myself to learn something new, to reach a little farther, to try a little harder.
There’s no medal or t-shirt for those of us who chose a non-running path, but let me tell you, after a great fusion strength class, or a sensational 45 minute spin class, my inner child has her hands up and the imaginary friends, family and strangers are just as loud with their praise. I spot those well-equipped runners, the ones with their iPod secured in a fancy arm band, a giant $400 Garmin strapped to their wrist and their $200 shoes and I’ll unabashedly admit that I am slightly envious of their simple goals. At the end of the day, I’ll take my imaginary cheers over chasing the next race… but some days I really would like a “I didn’t run a 5k, but I can hover in spin class like you wouldn’t believe!” t-shirt.
