The Walk of Shame

I think I'll try 6 miles today. Yeah, if I walk a little, I can totally do it. Ok, I feel good! I'm totally going to run a half marathon next year. Well, actually my legs feel a little weak. And it's hotter  out than I was expecting. Has this route always had this much incline? I forgot sunblock. How is it so hot? Try and smile at these people as you pass them...they did not smile back. Another person...try to look like a real runner, run faster. And maybe hold your breath a little. Ugh, I exerted too much energy trying not to look like a stroke victim when I passed that woman. I'll just run the normal 5 miles. Seriously, when did it get so hot? If I turn right here instead of left, then it's only 4 miles. I can live with that. 4 miles! Did I tie my laces too tight? It feels like it. Jesus, my fingers are swollen. If I just make it to 3 miles, I can take a little walk break. Oh, F this, I'm walking the rest of the way.

And so went my late morning run. I barely eeked out 3 miles before, well, giving up. I know all runners have good days and bad days. I know there is no real shame in walking. I know I need to listen to my body. I know the weather is a factor. (Did I mention it's hot? To be clear, I am not complaining about the weather-- I am not allowed to after the winter we had-- just stating fact.) I know that I've come a long way. I know all of these things! But can we admit that it's still frustrating? Grrr! I had a similar experience a few weeks ago, stopping exactly where I did today and walking the rest of the way home. For the first time in months, I gave into to that annoying voice that says "you can't do this, just stop, no one will know", a voice that I had become rather good at ignoring. Admittedly, I felt like a failure.

You're probably reading this and thinking, well that's dramatic! You're right, it kind of is. I'm nothing if not dramatic. Deep down I know that running any amount of miles--whether I need to walk a little or not-- is a real accomplishment, and that I would only fail if I didn't go back out the next day or the next and try again. And so, I will try again. I will hit the 6 mile mark one day (soon), and because I want to, I run even further than that. All in good time.

Join the Club

Running has, for me, been very much about being alone. I’ve come to relish this time.

Recently, though, I have been itching to be part of a community. Though I have several friends who are runners, due to schedules and locations and various paces and goals, we’re rarely running together. While I pass (rather, they pass me) too many runners to count during my urban runs, they seem to have a lot of contempt for me. I try to smile, but they always look away. In the zone? Oblivious? Judging? Maybe they are thinking the same thing about me? Not sure. But, it’s easy to feel alone, even when I am surrounded by other runners.

So I decided to join a run club. I was excited, scared, intimidated. I emailed the organizer with nervous first-timer questions. I was assured that all runners (even slow, short-distance ones like me) were welcomed and encouraged to attend. The group is large, I was told, I’m sure there’ll be someone running at your pace.

But there wasn’t. Thankfully, a friend had joined me and ran the whole way beside me. If she hadn’t, I would have been completely alone, is this giant group. None of the other runners looked like me. The conversations I overheard centered around marathon training.  There was no real introduction, so I wasn’t sure where we were going or how long the route was, and the group quickly ended up far ahead of us. We were a run club of two.

To be clear, I wasn’t expecting 100 runners with my pace, or everyone waiting for the “new girl” at the end with a high-five and a beer. But I was expecting something…inclusive, friendly. Maybe a “hey, how’d it go?” from someone, anyone, at the end.  I was expecting to leave feeling empowered and inspired, but I left feeling pretty sorry for myself instead. I know it sounds like I am throwing myself a pity party—and I admit that I am. Thank you for indulging me.

This clearly was not the running club for me. As much as I’d like to crawl back into my shell and never take my running “public” again, I will keep looking and give other clubs a try. Updates to follow!