A Runner is Born

Running was never my thing. I remember when I was in high school in the mid-eighties that we had to run 3 miles in order to pass Junior year gym class.  I did it, but  I hated every second of it.  I didn’t run again for years.

Then when I moved up to Maine in my early 30’s, I took another stab at it.  My husband (a runner) and I did some 5Ks together.  I didn’t take them very seriously.   My last one of this era I had to walk because I was  pregnant.  I took another 5 years off from the sport, raised my babies to toddler-hood and didn’t think much about running.

This year I surprised myself by adding “Run a 10K” to my life’s to-do list.  Where did that come from?

Then I surprised myself even more by rallying my husband (who had run it twice before), his family and our friends to run the Beach to Beacon 10K this year.

The race was on August 1st and it was amazing.

I had technically been training for this since January.   We did have a rough two month stretch in March-April when we were all sick.  My husband even had a bout with pneumonia.

August 1st came up quickly.  I was shocked at how fast it arrived.  When we started this adventure on treadmills at the YMCA in January, I thought we had all the time in the world.

I don’t think this incredibly wet Spring and Summer helped any either.  There were weeks where there were only one or maybe two days that it didn’t rain.   But still I progressed, gradually increasing my distance.  I had never really ran more that 2 miles without stopping before.  But I found myself doing 2.5, then 3, then 4.5.  I am not fast, these are slow miles, but I did them one after the other.

The Monday before the race my husband and I did a trial 10K run.  I finished despite it being a very hot and humid day.  We celebrated with brunch at Bintliff’s.  They didn’t seem to mind that we were dripping with sweat!   I was ready.  The weather wasn’t going to be worse than that – so I knew I’d be fine.

At this point I liked running okay.  I hated the first mile, but I usually had a smile on my face walking back to the car.  I still didn’t think of myself as a runner.

I’m pretty sure running produces the same chemical or hormone that is produced immediately following childbirth. I remember clearly my husband giving me the “are you kidding me” look when following 12 hours of labor and an hour and a half of my son’s head being stuck, I announced “I’d do that again!”. And I did.

Up until the race, I still didn’t enjoy running. However, during the Beach to Beacon, something changed.  I changed.  I became a runner.

I’m not sure when it happened exactly.

It could have been when running past a group of spectators that were blasting music through a professional sound system, a bunch of us started clapping along to the music when running past.

It could have been when running through town, turning the corner onto Shore Road, with hundreds of people lined up on both sides of the street, when I realized I was grinning from ear to ear and actually enjoying this. And I was doing something that all those people watching were not doing.

Or it might have been when I saw the finish line and knew I had something left. I began to sprint and passed a half dozen people before crossing the line. Then kicking myself for leaving that much extra in the tank and vowing to run sub-60 minutes next year.

For the rest of the day, and the days that have followed, I have a sense of peace and contentment that I don’t remember ever having had before.

And I do know one thing…. I’ll do it again.