A few weeks ago, I was managing to run 2 miles at a time when I unexpectedly pulled a muscle in my leg. Initially, I didn’t realize what had happened, and my decision to push through with some planks only made things worse. For the next several weeks, I was left with a nagging injury and a cloud of anxiety. Would my leg heal? Would I be able to run again? I had to run. I craved that release. I feared losing all the progress I had made, including the weight I had shed.
If someone had told me just three months earlier that I would feel this way, I would have laughed. Running was something I associated with obsessed individuals, hard breathing (which I despised), and a sticky, sweaty aftermath. In my mind, running was for high school athletes, college students, and those with flawless physiques. It was definitely not for someone like me.
My perspective shifted dramatically when I gained a significant amount of weight due to medication. Once we identified the culprit and I was off the drug, I was left with excess weight and no effective way to shed it besides dieting. I needed a different solution—something active. That’s when I stumbled upon a Couch to 5K program.
This program is designed for those starting from scratch—likely not running or even walking much. It uses interval training, with the first week consisting of a minute and a half of walking followed by a minute of jogging, repeated several times. After reviewing the plan, I thought it sounded reasonable and took the plunge. I found a user-friendly app to guide me through my workouts, emphasizing that I would be jogging, not running, and that I wouldn’t be gasping for breath—something I truly detest.
I started off slowly. It wasn’t until later that I realized just how slowly I was going, especially when I transitioned to running the entire time instead of alternating with walking. I had to lug my three kids under 7 years old to the park in a cumbersome double stroller, while my eldest rode his bike alongside me. I was often passed by everyone: fast-paced older ladies and lively college students. I would nod in solidarity with the other slower runners, recognizing that we were part of the same tribe. My younger kids frequently begged to get out of the stroller, while my oldest complained of fatigue. By the end of our outings, we had barely covered a mile.
However, I gradually made progress. I invested in some good running gear and proper shoes, which alleviated my calf pain. Before long, I was able to jog for five minutes at a time. I began bringing along my German Shepherd, who went wild whenever he saw me in my running clothes. My kids could no longer keep pace; I had to wait for my husband to return home from work before I could run in the evenings. He even gifted me a bracelet that dispensed mace, and I always took my intimidating German Shepherd with me. As I worked up to running for 25 minutes straight, I was filled with doubt—could I really do it? But I did. I even managed to run for 28 minutes without stopping.
Eventually, I decided to abandon the program with just one week left. I needed to focus on my speed, as I was still running at a turtle’s pace. Instead of sticking to the prescribed 30-minute runs, I shifted my focus to distance—aiming for two miles. The first time I broke the 14-minute mile mark felt like crossing a finish line. Most recently, I clocked in at 13:23 minutes per mile. Sure, it’s still slow, but it’s a marked improvement from the 15- or 16-minute miles I was trudging through just weeks prior. And it’s certainly better than not running at all.
I had become hooked. I found myself browsing running gear, dreaming of new track jackets, and eagerly anticipating my next pair of shoes. When I injured my leg, it marked the first time in three months that I had gone more than two days without running. I felt a significant void. My dog became restless. I missed the rush that running brought me—the escape from my thoughts and the daily challenges of being a mom, a writer, and a teacher. Yes, it’s tough. Yes, I still sometimes struggle to breathe. But I have genuinely come to love it.
Two miles may not seem like a monumental distance, but it allowed me to shed about 15 to 20 pounds, alongside adopting a cleaner diet. When I resume running, I know I’ll have to start back at 25 minutes at a time, at a slower pace. I never thought I could sprint short distances without feeling like I was dying, nor could I jog for more than a few minutes without needing to pause. Initially, I couldn’t, but I persevered and trained my body. I still envy those effortlessly fit college girls. At 35 and carrying extra weight, running will never be a walk in the park for me, at least not for a while. But it worked. I did it, and I’m committed to continuing.
And if I can achieve this, so can you. I promise.
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In summary, my journey from hating running to embracing it has been transformative. Through determination and gradual progress, I overcame my initial struggles and found a passion that promotes both physical health and mental clarity. If I can do it, you can too!