There’s a woman I see on one of my running routes lately, almost every time I’m out there. If her cotton sweatpants and hoodie with fleece jacket don’t out her as a newbie runner, her bulky knit hat and mittens certainly do.
We wave and smile and I offer her encouragement. As far as I can tell, she’s been at it since just after Thanksgiving. She looks a bit miserable but she’s persevering….through the holidays…and the winter…huge props for that.
I wonder what made her decide to start? Does she have a vision? A goal? A training plan? Will she grow to love it? Will running take her places she never imagined?
I can’t help but think back to those days when I was starting out as a runner.
I decided in January, 2007 that I’d run ‘a’ marathon that year. I bit the bullet and signed up for The Chicago Marathon with a couple of test-run halfs in the months preceeding.
To say I was terrified would be an understatement.
What scared me so much?
Fear of failure
Fear of pain
Neither of those came true–well the pain part did but marathon pain is much like that of childbirth. Once that medal is around your neck, you almost instantly forget the agony and you’re shopping Marathon Guide for more before you can say ‘maybe I should wait until I can walk again’.
Last weekend I FINALLY joined a new running group. Although I haven’t run with them yet, (thanks to a single parenting gig) I gathered the kid posse and went to to the running store to meet everybody as they came back from a group run.
What scared me?
I was afraid I’d be unable to commit to their running times
As you all probably already know, this is so not a big deal. So why was it holding me back?
Like most runners, everyone in the group could not have been nicer. Plus there are some badass cyclists among them that I’m counting on to drag my excuse-filled behind to my first duathlon this year.
