A Running Commentary

"They say I'm crazy but I have a good time" Joe Walsh, Lifes Been Good

First and foremost, I am not a runner.

Back in my Army days, running was close to the top of my “Least Favorite Things To Do” list, nestled right behind starting IV’s on fellow soldiers during Combat Medic Training. But, as is the way of the Army, I ran. Despite blisters from combat boots, shins splints from trying to do too much, too soon and a pinched sciatic nerve (the highlight of my Basic Training, I assure you), I ran. And I loathed it. It took nearly seven years for me to run again after I left the military.

When I decided to start exercising I never once considered running. Why should I? I would have rather walked barefoot in the snow for a mile rather than run one. Instead I took Step Aerobics and Box n Bag classes to get my cardio workouts. I later supplemented those classes by power walking on the treadmill. As I cruised along at 4.0 mph, it began: a nagging itch, a feeling of wanting to bust out of the cocoon I was happily ensconced in. A little voice in the back of my head began whispering, “Go faster”. Despite repeated attempts, the nagging voice would not be ignored.

I started out slowly. I ran fewer than ten minutes before it became too much. Out of breath and with a stitch in my side that sliced like a knife, I stopped. It’s not as if I’m going to start doing this all the time, I told myself.

Incredibly I kept at it, all the while denying to myself that I was beginning to enjoy my runs. I ran through the stitches and they eventually disappeared altogether. I learned to control my breathing by finding comfortable rhythms in the songs that I listened to on my MP3 player. The first time that I ran a full two miles on the treadmill I gushed about it to anyone who would listen.

Soon I was able to run those same two miles but without the fanfare. My time running allowed me to zone out and reflect on my life. I bought a heart rate monitor so could better understand how hard I was working and how many calories I was burning. It felt awkward at first with this strap wrapped around my chest, but soon it became a part of me and I’d forget that it was there.

I knew that the winds of change were blowing the moment I programmed the treadmill for a 5k just to see if I could do it. I was thrilled when I finished it in about 35 minutes. I started to consider running in an actual 5k race—not to “race” per se, but to be a part of the experience. The last time I participated in a 5k event I was in the Army, stationed at Camp Humphreys, Korea. Eons ago. Could I do it again? I signed up for a race in St. Louis, and despite the terrible weather conditions that made me question what I was thinking, I ran with the masses. I was astonished when I finished in 26 minutes, 4 seconds. My best time on a treadmill had never been better than 30 minutes. I’m now looking forward to participating in more events.

Now that my girls are in school I have had the opportunity to get outside and run in the fresh air. The only time I ever enjoyed running while in the Army was while stationed at Fort Drum, NY, where my unit would occasionally go on a “river run”. This beaten trail ran us in a forest-like setting along Black River, and it was gorgeous. I want to run alongside the Mississippi and explore the trails in the River Bend. And when the weather warms I’ll be eager to get out and run along side the gorgeous spring displays from Mother Nature.

As I continue to wear down the belt on the treadmill—and, more recently the pavement—my mental approach to running has changed. I no longer think in terms of minutes but miles. A quarter mile here, a half-mile there. Can I go just one more? I once jumped on the treadmill without a specific goal in mind, deciding that I would run until I got tired. An hour later I figured that I had better stop so I could get ready for work, and I stepped off of the treadmill with 6 miles under my belt.

I may not be a runner, but I think I’m becoming one.

*My article ran as a column in my local paper on 2/26/06.