I became a runner completely by accident.
In high school, I hung out with all of the runners - even went on adventurous trips with them over the summers (which is where I first encountered climbing, at some random wall at the New) - but was not one of them. I had never run before, but as part of the efforts of an exasperated overweight kid, I tried to follow the training program the summer between freshman and sophomore year of high school. It was arduous work, and I eventually quit; embarrassed with my lack of speed and endurance, and lacking the motivation necessary to continue, it was a relatively easy decision at the time. I slid back into obesity with barely a thought - it was an important first dip into the waters of living a healthier lifestyle, but I was unfortunately not quite ready.
Then, of course, I discovered climbing. It changed me in ways I could never have foreseen; the one thing that I could have foreseen was that it whipped me into shape faster than I could have ever imagined. In that sense, everything proceeded according to plan. As part of a failed experiment to maximize my strength / weight ratio, I started running again in the fall of my sophomore year of college with an eye towards being able to pull harder on the greasy gym crimps we had (side note: no luck there!) but after only a few months again quit.
Those were my only two brief forays into running. I didn't enjoy it. When it comes down to it, that sentence defines so much of how modern society approaches physical recreation - there is a certain dubiousness surrounding these activities; a heaviness of heart instead of limb. Even the people who do some small modicum of activity, like working out, can often be heard deriding their time spent in the gym - as though it's some kind of chore, to be done and then forgotten about. I spent a long time swimming in the waters of this particular metaphysical malaise, but in retrospect the answer seems obvious: you can't really get into anything unless you love it. The reason climbing fixed me (and in my mind I was very "broken" before that) is no secret; anybody with a passion knows what it's like to work hard at something - and supporting somethings - so as to improve yourself. It's happening the world over, and whether you kayak, climb, or ride one of those outrageous bikes with the wheels that are powered by your hands, I respect you because you're doing something you love and it makes you who you are.
Fast forward a few years. Practically against my will, I agreed to register in a relay race called "Reach the Beach" as a way to support my company. I love my job, but had a real aversion to running. Only when it became clear that the team might not coalesce without my support did I finally relent. This was in January, and the race was in May. In Reach the Beach, a team of up to twelve people alternates legs of a race - anywhere between 3 to 9 miles in length - as you march from a (totally arbitrary) starting point to - you guessed it - the beach. I began running, but again couldn't really get motivated. And I kept getting injured. First my IT bands began to bother me, then my left and right meniscus. By the time of the race, while I felt physically capable of running the 21 miles assigned to me, I was in bad shape. Sure enough, by the 5th mile of my third leg, already 18 miles in, my left knee had become so swollen that I was reduced to a horrible pirate limp. My team finally hauled me in and another runner continued in my place. It was the right choice: much as I wanted to keep going, I ran the risk (no pun intended) of much greater injury. Despite this, my team had a wild time and we all enjoyed ourselves to no end. We found a certain companionship and camaraderie associated with watching friends push their limits.
That night, a good friend of mine took this photo of me. I appear downtrodden, and I was - I could barely walk the next day, and there's nothing like shooting pain every time you take a step to remind you of your own mortality and aging. But I came to realize that what really bothered me about the situation was not that I had gotten injured - that was the natural conclusion to my idiotic running form - but that at the beginning of my third leg, I was not tired. I ran with two older guys, and I was grateful that they stuck by my side after catching up to me as I started to limp. When they passed me, it was not because they had sped up; I had slowed down as the pain increased. I went slower and slower, and watched people struggle past me, until I eventually was found by my team doing my terrible peg leg limp. That is to say: I wasn't tired. At all.
Something about that sensation grabbed at my consciousness. I was convinced that a homeopathic recovery was within my grasp, and began truly working towards that with a friend of mine - when my knee had finally reduced itself to its normal size three weeks later. We ran every day - just a little! - and I snuck in some barefoot time on the indoor track. I wasn't obsessed with the idea that barefoot running was the key to my salvation, but I had connected with running in a way that was similar to my love for climbing, and I wanted to be able to run as I pleased - for as long as I pleased. I ran in hilariously thin slippers (1 mm of rubber) when shoes were required and slowly but surely began to feel better. I was searching for that moment where I could run and "turn off" - have my form carry me and not have to worry about anything except what I was thinking about in the present. It's a state of mind that accentuates the texture of sun-crisped leaves; that leaves you free to explore the various mysteries and joys of life.
I went for a run the other night and, like many times, felt as though I had just barely warmed up when I came in at the end of a 6 mile loop. Today, I decided to test myself - not by speed, but by an unknown length - and when I came in after an hour and a half and found I'd run 10 miles ... I felt pretty good. I purposefully ran as slow as I could possible imagine, and as a result was never winded. I look forward to future runs - and the chance to run further. In that process, it seems, I may find myself anew.
tangentwithtanner
izzy806
origamiaround
gracieabrams
prguitarman
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
