Leading up to the race, I thought a lot about why the heck I torture myself anyway. It helped get me through some seemingly unending training runs, and a seemingly unending race. Why do I choose to spend hours, in some cases, of my day sweating and swearing and struggling up hills and pushing until my brain can't take it anymore and I am pretty certain I died 3 miles ago? Well, quite simply, because I can. Running will never be effortless for me, but I'm determined to keep doing it until I can't any longer, because it gives me sense of accomplishment like nothing else and because I know being mobile a gift. In March, my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. When I'm on the road, I think a lot about her and how her energy has been sapped. I think about my mom, whose knees prevent her from walking comfortably. I think about two good friends who weren't able to run the half they trained so hard for due to health issues. I think about how lucky I am. Don't misunderstand-- it's not easy and it's not always. I don't chant "lucky me, lucky me, woopie!" with every step (it's usually more to the tune of "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck, noooo, why??? where the hell did this hill come from??fuuuuck!" (Yes, sometimes I say these words out loud. My running is not meant for children).
I also started to wonder what motivates other nut jobs, so I asked around. My husband, like me, started to run to switch up his exercise routine, and continues to run to complete with himself, to be a little better the next run and the next run. My 17-year old nephew started for the same reasons (exercise...I'm sensing a theme) and has kept with it because he is determined to to break a 5-minute mile (yup, you read that correctly). He currently runs about a 5:11 so obviously his commitment is paying off! Oh to be 17... A dear friend and former colleague admits that she may hate it in the moment, but the endorphins are worth it (runner's high, it's a thing). She comes from a family of runners and hopes that she'll pass on the "crazy gene" (my words, not hers) to her future children...awww 💜. As Oprah said (to me, directly?) "Running is the greatest metaphor for life, because you get out of it what you put into it. ” Truth.
Ok, back to June 4: Newport Part 2. By many accounts, it was a harder race than the first. The sun was hotter, the air was thicker, the hills seemed hillier than I remembered, which seems impossible since all I really remembered about the course were the hills. And my official time was 46 stupid seconds slower than last year. It wasn't what I wanted or expected. But I noticed something this time that I hadn't last year-- there were lots of women who looked like me. Why does this matter? When you possess a body that does not fit the "ideal runner" mold, to see other people who look like you can mean the world. It's encouraging. Inspiring. It's a big reason why I put myself through this insanity: to prove that this jiggly-thighed woman with abs the opposite of steel, this fat -girl- running, is fucking capable. And maybe some other woman who looks like me noticed I was struggling, but not stopping, up that damn hill at mile 5 and thought to herself if she can do this, so can I.
Regardless if I have ever motivated anyone myself, I continue to be motivated by all the runners around me, no matter their size, shape, or pace. You are part of the reason I do this. Thanks for inviting me into your crazy family!
(I surrender, Newport!)
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