My journey with running began in the fall of ’88 when I first experienced the discomfort of running. After hitting puberty, gym class in eighth grade became a dreaded affair. The lithe body that once gracefully sprinted around the playground was long gone. I felt the heaviness of my developing hips and bust with each lap around the track, leading me to firmly decide that I would never willingly pursue running.
Throughout high school, I steered clear of sports due to my aversion to running. However, on rare occasions, my friends and I would don our trendy Spandex and sprint around downtown, our high ponytails bouncing in sync—though we typically hit a wall after about a mile. And by “rare,” I mean we did this maybe three times over six years, often treating ourselves to hot fudge sundaes at the local Dairy Bar as a reward for our fleeting foray into fitness. Even then, I held onto my belief that running was not for me.
In college, I walked extensively and taught step aerobics, but running didn’t enter my life. I clung to the notion that being a runner was an innate trait—I was convinced I was not one of the chosen few.
This mindset lingered until I turned 35, when I saw a striking woman effortlessly gliding down the street while I struggled to manage my kindergartner and his tantrumming siblings after school. Dressed in sleek black running tights, she ascended a steep hill with a smile that radiated joy. In that moment, I realized that running could be liberating. As I sat in my warm SUV, the temperature outside was a frigid 2 degrees, yet she appeared to be unrestrained and adventurous. I yearned for that same freedom, telling myself I would become a runner someday.
However, the leap into running didn’t happen until just after my 39th birthday. With my children growing older and less demanding, I finally took the plunge. It wasn’t just a whim; it felt like a necessity. My pace resembled that of a sloth, but I pushed through, determined to prove myself wrong.
Finishing my first run left me both exhausted and exhilarated. Forgive me for this cliché, but it marked the beginning of a transformative journey—a shift in my mindset and spirit. It turned out I needed this change more than I realized. The timing was right when I chose to run for myself, driven by self-love rather than self-criticism.
Since that day, running has become an unbreakable part of my routine. Now, as my kids have grown, I often rise early, slip into my running gear, and step onto my porch to witness the sunrise while the rest of my family sleeps. It’s a brief moment of peace before I charge into the chaos of the day. Running allows me to embrace the tranquility of my own thoughts, free from anxiety and the incessant demands of daily life.
If you find yourself overwhelmed by parenting or life’s responsibilities, and you crave an outlet—be it biking, running, skiing, or any activity that sets your spirit free—give yourself grace and time. You will discover your passion, something you can’t imagine living without. Don’t let self-doubt or the difficulties deter you; if you can navigate parenthood, you can conquer anything.
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Summary:
I began running at the age of 39, transforming my life and mindset in ways I never expected. Initially resistant to the idea, I found freedom and joy in running, which has since become an essential part of my daily routine. For anyone feeling overwhelmed by life’s demands, I encourage you to explore activities that bring you joy and fulfillment.