I used to have a pure love for running. After a knee injury, I attempted road
cycling, and by my standards, I failed miserably. I wanted to love cycling in the same way
that I cherished running. I wanted cycling
to be my stress relief, my “me time”, my escape. But it wasn’t. Very recently, I purchased a
gorgeous 2015 Cannondale carbon fiber road bike in hopes that it would make my
journey easier. It did the exact
opposite. It made me more competitive
with myself and more frustrated by the fact that I haven’t yet aced the
sport. Due to my fear of clipless
pedals, cycling became the most stressful part of my day. Not only was I comparing it to running, I
also kept dwelling on the negatives like how fast I was going, how unsafe it
was, how cars don’t care about running cyclists off the road, how small the
bike lanes are, how to clip in and out of my pedals faster, how to not crash
into the runner who decided to use the bike lanes. I thought about the injuries that most
cyclists come across at one time or another and how those injuries could
possibly affect other things that I enjoy in my life. The negativity in my head won. To say I am disappointed in myself as a
cyclist is an understatement. I wanted
so badly to be a bad ass biker chick-and not the Harley kind where the motor
does the work for you. Even though I
completed a half century ride (50 miles) on a MOUNTAIN bike, it wasn’t good
enough. I still wanted to be the chick
that rides a full century and doesn’t sweat it.
And that’s when I realized something.
I have been putting way too much pressure on myself to be this bike
star. And then I realized that this is a
pattern, because I also did the same thing with running.
I’ve been running for roughly seven years. Prior to that, I was an on-again/off-again
runner. When I moved to Florida, I
became more serious about it. And by
serious, I mean that it became a part of my daily routine. About a year after I moved here, I started
looking for other ladies I could possibly run with because it got lonely
sometimes. I decided to join MRTT (shout
out to MRTT Sebastian chapter). Moms Run
This Town is a local organization of amazing, supportive women who enjoyed
running just as much as I did.
Now, before I go any further, when I first joined, I knew
nothing about running terminology. I
literally had a 2nd generation IPod shuffle and an old pair of
running sneakers. When I ran, it was
just me, my music and the road. I
remember meeting the MRTT ladies for the first time at the 4th of
July 5K race in town. It felt so good to
show up and to be a part of something.
When the race was finished, I remember the group leader asking me what
my finishing time was. I just shrugged
my shoulders because I really had no clue, and said that I was a pretty slow
runner. I didn’t pay attention to the
clock and I didn’t have any gear to let me know anything. She mentioned something about a “PR”, and I
felt like an idiot because I had to ask her what it meant. I was obviously a running novice, but the
group was so supportive and didn’t make me feel bad about my lack of knowledge (or
lack of tech gear for that matter). Over
time, the group unintentionally introduced me to a whole new world of
running. I got new shoes that were
lighter and a smartphone app that would track my time. I started paying attention to how fast I
could run each mile. I started pushing
myself to run longer, harder, faster.
And with the encouragement from this wonderful group of women, I signed
up and completed my first half marathon.
My time was 2:22, which I was and still am very proud of.
After a few months of not racing, I decided to start
training to run 26.2 miles. Now, I
didn’t say marathon because I didn’t sign up for a race. I just decided that I was going to run the
26.2 locally by myself. There would be
no medals or fanfare at the end of it all.
I was doing it for the challenge.
I trained for a few weeks, up until I got to my Sunday eight mile long
run, and that’s when my knee gave out.
The pain was excruciating, but I tried to run through it. When I couldn’t, and when I realized that
even walking was painful, I knew it was serious enough to put my 26.2 goal on hold. I was devastated mostly because I wasn’t sure
if I would ever be able to complete my goal.
But that’s the issue- rather than being disappointed about my inability
to run, I was more disappointed about not reaching my goal. The love I had for running, all of those
years ago when all I had was my little clip on IPod shuffle, had seemed to be
replaced by something else. I was more
concerned with my times, my distances and being able to tell the world that I
had completed a marathon. Running, but
not the love of it, consumed me. I have
a wonderful fiancé and two awesome daughters, yet during that time, running was
the first thing I thought about when I woke up in the morning. And I would keep thinking about it until I completed
my run. And even after I got my daily
run in, I would think about how I could have done better. I didn’t think rest days were necessary. I worried
about where I could fit my training into my already busy schedule. I longed for the most expensive Garmin
running watch and the most expensive Brooks sneakers money could buy. I was obsessed. And the sad part is that I started losing the
feeling I had at the very beginning, when I didn’t know what a PR was, and when
I would sing along with my music at the top of my lungs as I ran because it was
so much fun. I zapped the enjoyment out
of it because, as I discovered recently with cycling, I was being too hard on
myself. I was expecting the best, but missing
the point. My truth is that I will never
be an Olympic runner. I also will never
ride in the Tour de France. So, why not
just sit back and enjoy it? Why all of
the pressure? Why not celebrate the
simple fact that I’m outside doing something active? Goals and challenges are great to a certain
extent. But for me, it’s just not worth
it if my entire focus is on the wrong things.
I have just recently started dabbling back into the running
arena, only two miles at a time. I am
nervous to go any further than that because, for some reason, the two mile
marker is usually when my knee starts hurting.
So, I’ve decided that running “only two miles” at a much slower pace
than I used to run is still pretty damn fantastic. My intention is to upload some new tunes on
my old IPod shuffle and to forget about the clock, my splits, running apps and
the distances that I was once capable of running. My intention is to stop beating myself up and
to bring back the fun that made me start running in the first place. Maybe one day, I will even be able to run the
26.2 miles. Or maybe one day, I will
clip into those bike pedals and ride a century with the big boys. And if I do, I truly hope that all I will
need is a great playlist in my ears and a smile on my face.
As for now, I will get back to the basics and do what I can,
as long as my true love of the sport isn’t compromised. And, just in case you were wondering, I am
happy to say that my family has replaced running as the first thing I think
about every morning.
