Last Saturday, I ran my fastest 10KM during the Nike Women’s 10KM in Amsterdam. It was a thrill; a complete high it took me hours to come down from. You see, I never really thought I could be a runner, much less enjoy running as much as I do now. I started training back in 2011; my parents & I had all moved back to Holland after a 10-year stint abroad, none of us had a job and I think we felt a little untethered. So the three of us started running 3 times a week with a training schedule we’d find online, keeping time with the kitchen timer. For me it gave shape and a rhythm to days I otherwise probably would have spent in my pyjama’s on the couch wondering where my post-grad life would lead.
I kept running even after I moved again & started art school, but for the wrong reasons. Next to all the chaos of a new city, new school, new boyfriend and a whole range of new insecurities, running became nothing more than tedious exercise. I stalled at 5KM for months, scaling back from 3 times a week to maybe a few times a months. The lowest point was when last year I decided to pick it up again, only to be held back by a bad case of tendonitis a week before that same Nike Run. Someone who had been skeptical of it all just smirked when he heard I wouldn’t be joining after all, like it had been evident all along. I decided that was sort of it; I had once fooled myself into thinking I could run, but I was older & wiser now and I would be foolish to think I still could. Silly little girl.
When my relationship finally ended after a year of spectacular heartache and a self-confidence blown to smithereens, I hit a very low, very dark point. I remember my mother telling me to just go for a run, that things would get better, but I really just wasn’t seeing it anymore.
One afternoon I went to see a friend who never really fails to make me feel better about things. She’s a ball of positivity and energy, always has been, despite the fact that she’s quite sick now. I watched her talk to me about my issues: my broken heart, my stalled illustration career, my excessive rent. As I went on and on, she was getting noticeably tired and drained. A simple conversation was exhausting for her, and yet she still listened to my ramblings and offered her advice. I realised her last year and months had been a feat of strength, perseverance, but above all a willingness and determination to live and live well, whereas mine had been one of self-pity, of should-haves and would-haves, postponed goals and happiness put on hold.
I kicked myself into gear that very same evening, ran a horribly exhausting and emotional 7KM, kicked my own proverbial ass and joined the land of the living.
That brings us to now, the Monday after the awesome 10KM Saturday, slightly sore muscles still and possibly feigning positivity as I google ‘half marathon training guide’ and try to imagine what 21K worth of sore muscles feels like.
On September 20th, I’m running the Dam tot Damloop for the World Cancer Research Fund, to thank my friend for her wise words, inspiration, and energy.
On October 18th, I’m running the Mizuno Amsterdam Half Marathon. Because well, why the hell not ?
