About

More than once I’ve tried to figure out where my “relationship” with running began.  Somewhere along the line, it became clear it was a great deal farther in the past than that summer morning a few months back when I finally got off the treadmill and hit the road for a true run.  It also became clear that this “relationship” had nothing to do with love or infatuation or even friendship.  It was a relationship born of true hatred.

16 minutes, 10 seconds.  For some reason, the time remains cemented in my memory.  I’m not the type to remember these tiny inconsequential things.  It was middle school.  Gym class.  Off we all went, being run around the school yard, participating in one of those strokes of genius created by some bureaucrat.  The student fitness test.  Run a mile and a half in 16:10 and you were deemed “fit”.  Well, I didn’t quite make it.  In the absolute genius of the physical education department, those of us you didn’t make it needed to repeat the task next class.  And again after that.  As if I would miraculously become Olympic material two days later.

Running instantly became the bane of my existence.  It would remain as such for years after that.    A symbol for failure.  A form of punishment.  It would be years, but it would ultimately become a different symbol.  A symbol of growth.

Wisdom came with age, and with that came realization that running wasn’t all of this.  It was none of it at all.  My mistake wasn’t in being slow, but in believing a bunch of bureaucrats could define my success or failure.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but the first time I got on that treadmill, I was hooked.  Hooked on challenging myself, which I never thought was even possible.  3 miles an hour became 4, which became 5.

Last summer, I hit the road.  Got off the treadmill, and hit the road.  I still don’t know why, but I do know I am glad I did.  Now, I am training for my first half marathon.  It all seems a little much at times, but it feels good.  I let too many years go by without so much as challenging myself the slightest bit.  Too many years just doing enough to get by.  No more.

Every morning I run the roads in my neighborhood, I feel like I have a leg up.  I’m not wasting the precious hours I have been given.  Seeing what I can do, instead of wondering.  It may not be much in the end.  I still don’t know if I would make the cut for the fitness test, but it is of no matter anymore.

So, here I am.  Deciding to share my new relationship with running with the world.  There’s much to learn and much to share.