Journey of a reluctant runner
Growing up, running always seemed like a punishment. When I was in middle school, I had to occasionally complete a mile run in order to meet physical education requirements. I was always toward the back of the pack and struggled to complete it. I recall that in high school, too, our tennis team was punished for arriving late to practice and was ordered, -screaming-, by our coach, a small yet fierce Japanese woman, to run 2 miles.
Running was simply unpalatable. It was something you had to do if you’d made a mistake. It was a bore. The goal was to literally run in circles. As a sport, it simply made no sense.
I rediscovered running as a college student, clocking in a mile here or there in the gym, as a way to combat the isolation of my dorm room and move my body somewhat during the day. Despite my occasional efforts, I scoffed at people who ran regularly. Why would you choose that for yourself? Are you a masochist? I would think skeptically, shaking my head at another toned person ran, huffing, past me.
Then I met my boyfriend, who enjoyed running and even wanted to complete Bay to Breakers. This is awful!! I whined to myself. I just don’t get it.
But out of curiosity, I began to join him from time to time. I began running a few blocks at a time. At first, I felt so self-conscious and didn’t even know how to achieve a correct posture while running. I worried that I was super hunched over like an old lady. I also thought it was weird that I breathed abnormally loudly and was red in the face from going at a pace a mere hair over a walk. Was I supposed to get a violently painful stitch in my side every time I attempted a jog?
But slowly, the practice helped, and I worked up to a mile. I came to look forward to runs as a respite from work, something that would make me feel good, time just for myself. I enjoyed getting out into the fresh air, whether it was in my neighborhood or on a trail.
I found that the exertion on your lungs, heart, legs, and stomach while on a run is uncomfortable, but it provides many rewards. While on a run, you can actually get to know your neighborhood, to see changes and new developments. I was recently stopped midstep during a jog because of a sign in a local auto shop, proclaiming, “Storms Don’t Last Forever.” It made me feel less alone. Runs are also an opportunity to savor the scenery in a way that you just don’t get while driving. And the post-run endorphins are also something that I can always count on, a constant.
I’ve been able to keep up my steady progress over the course of the last few years. Last year, I completed a 5K race for the first time. Tomorrow, I’ll be trying to complete a 10K. *Edit- I finished it!*
I love running because it creates a space for my thoughts to escape. Normally, negative thoughts sometimes latch on easily. Self doubt, regrets, work stress, all filter slowly and slowly permeate my mood and overall outlook. When I’m running, though, when a negative thought enters my brain, I’m so tired and preoccupied that I’m not able to fully subscribe to the negative thought. In most cases, it kind of just enters my mind, gets processed, and passes through.
Even with the love I have for running and the fact that I’ve been doing it regularly, I’m hesitant to call myself a runner. I more often associate that title with people who can easily plow through 10 mile workouts while barely breaking a sweat. I am a small, slim, Asian female, and it’s hard to perceive myself as athletic or even as aspiring to be that. My sister and I joke that that our family has an impressive slew of mild ailments (short stature, allergies, near-sightedness, tendency toward anemia, etc.) that would make us doubtful picks for a relay race or contenders in an apocalypse survivor scenario.
But, persistence helps. I’ve still put on my running shoes often, and on many days that I haven’t wanted to. I’ve held myself accountable because I knew I would always thank myself afterwards. Going out for a run has repeatedly served me well.
And so now…yeah! I’m a runner. Maybe still somewhat reluctantly. But I’m really happy to join the club.
