On the Run

I've never considered myself an athlete. As a kid, I played every sport just long enough to be sure I had no latent Olympic talent. In college, the Navy gave me a new love for "pt" (physical training), but along with it came shin splints and the fear that if I ever tried to run long, I'd lose running altogether.

Which is how I justified watching Josh run the Indianapolis half marathon year after year after year...until this year. For the first time in four years, I wasn't pregnant or nursing, and I was eager to get back in shape.

Still, running 2-4 times a week, averaging 10-20 miles per week, for 12 weeks?

It was hard at first. The treadmill was hot, boring, and depressing. The double jogger was...heavy. And I'm not one to rise and run before Josh leaves at 7am. How was I ever going to do it?

God must've known I needed help, 'cause he provided a friend to swap childcare every Wednesday, a supportive husband to babysit Sat/Sun, and a great spring for running. My regimen didn't meet the Hal Higdon specs, but suddenly I had a routine where I could run 2-3 times each week outside and alone.

And the further I went, the easier--and more fun--it got. I got scared by "runners' knee" early on, but it was easily fixed. My childcare swap ended 2 weeks before the race, but by then, pushing the double jogger was so much easier. I began collecting my favorite podcasts to listen as I ran (Tim Keller, Brooks & Shields, Motley Fool, Splendid Table, and Freakonomics). And of course, Josh was cheering me on the whole time (usually in spirit).

Saturday it was 55 degrees and overcast; perfect for a run. It sprinkled from miles 7-12 and then the sun came out as we crossed the finish line. I'm not making that up. Josh stayed with me the entire time, I was able to run throughout (and even sprint the last mile), and my body is still in one piece. It felt GREAT. Even the hunger afterward made Steak & Shake taste better than ever. Here are a few notable moments from the race:

-- Bystander's sign reading "Almost There!" at mile 1.
-- Waiting 10 minutes(!!) for a port-a-potty at mile 4.
-- Passing Gumby & his horse, firefighters, and cops, all in full gear for 13.1 miles.
-- Cheerleaders on the Speedway dressed as pirates, beach bums, and undersea fish.
-- Reading shirt-backs that read "Toenails are for sissies" or "I thought they said 'rum.'"
-- Running with a dear friend and hearing her family call out at mile 12.
-- Finishing and not feeling like I'm about to die. :)

So now, at 33, I feel like an athlete. Not competitive. But capable. I've been surprised to find that the long runs are a fun event in themselves, plus they make food taste better, sleep feel better, and bathing heavenly. And they make short runs easy. So I hope to continue. My biggest current obstacle? It's already 90 degrees outside. Looks like I need to make friends with my treadmill after all.