I don't remember the very first time I ever went for a run. I do remember the days we ran the mile in gym class, and boy was that rough. There was something dreadful about changing into shorts, trekking out the quarter mile oval surrounding the football field, and slowly starting to jog around for four laps, all while watching the star football player literally running laps around you. The goal was 12 minutes for a mile, and dang that was tough.
Now, of course, this is almost laughable (though the participation awards were always welcomed), as I've been able to sustain an 8:30 mile for 13 miles. And running shorts feel really good after a long day of work, so the embarrassment of changing into them is spared. Oh, and I have really cool looking shoes, which of course inspires the debate as to whether the look of your shoes increases your speed. (I don't believe it does, but there is something to be said about how you feel in them.)
Today, while out on a walk during my lunch hour, I ran into a friend who I had been chatting with when deciding about going to grad school. After our conversation, I marveled at how just a few short months ago I had been tentative, nervous, even a little scared to share information with others. Now, I am proud and excited to share my news. Where did this confidence come from?
This line of thought led me to think about how my approach to running has changed. After those 12 minute miles in middle school, I didn't lace up my shoes to run for several years. And when I started, I remember the tentativeness that I would run with. I didn't really want people to see me run. I was scared of what they would think. I would plan routes with limited traffic and make sure to go places where no one I knew would be. I wondered if I had the right shoes or the right shorts and if I needed a baggier shirt and if I could do this in a way so that no one could see me and wonder what I was doing.
But, slowly but surely, I started to enjoy it. Things got easier. I was more excited to get up and run. I wanted to try different routes to see something different. I enjoyed bumping into people I knew to chat for a second or to smile and say hello or simply to have a second of motivation to make sure I didn't stop when I REALLY wanted to.
And before I knew it, I wanted to run when times were craziest. I relished getting up early to run and running in the heat (though not like last week.) I love bundling up on a snow day and running on fresh snow. I love to run in lots of rain and get sweaty and have people look at me from their cars, wondering just how crazy you have to be to do that.
The confidence of running came from becoming more comfortable with what I was doing. I was comfortable lacing my shoes and putting on shorts. I was comfortable finding a rhythm and enduring some heckling (run, forrest, run gets old quickly) and slipping on the ice. I was excited to be out and doing something because I found I had a purpose. I love to train for races. I love to have my legs get used to more running and to build towards something.
This same confidence is what I see in myself now with the decisions I'm making. Its scary at first, and the process isn't easy. The 20 mile training run for the marathon isn't one that you necessarily look forward to and it sure is exhausting when you run it. But in a few weeks when the race comes, the confidence is surging for you because you've already done most of it. And when you think about all the miles you run to train for the big race, it shouldn't be a shock at all that the 26.2 on the day of isn't really all that much. Its something, yes, but it isn't as much as what you've run for the week, for the month, for your training plan.
This is how I frame my journey towards grad school and moving in with my significant other and moving to a new city and a new place. I'm on my 20 mile training week and its getting tough. But, in a few weeks (2 years) when all is said and done, I'm going to be happy I went through these trials to make the end result so worth it.
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