If you had told me a year ago that within the next year I would become a runner, I would have confidently denied it. Nope. Not me. I’m just not a runner. Not built for it. Not my thing. Can’t do it.
If you had told me a year ago that I would be excited to go run outside in the middle of January, I would have laughed and suggested you might want to see a mental health professional.
And yet here I am, smiling away at the end of my lunchtime run on Wednesday.
Neil Gaiman wrote this on his blog the other day:
“I hated sports as a kid, hated running…In the good and bad at organised games equation, I was firmly in the bad at games camp. I liked reading, and if it was snowing or raining, I liked reading inside in the warm.
In truth, I have not changed that much. I’d still rather read than go outside and run. But…
I like how running makes me feel afterwards.
I like the way it clears and unclutters my mind, and, sometimes, leaves room for new things to come in, like stories.”
I’ve written here and here about how I was inspired to start walking last year. I really pushed myself with the walking, knowing I had to walk 8 miles for Bloomsday. And I discovered that I liked the feeling of pushing myself physically. So I thought I’d give running a try.
And honestly, I’m still not very good at it. But I’m SO much better at it than when I started last June. And even when it hurts and totally sucks, I love it. I love the confidence it gives me. I love the feeling of having my lungs really stretched out. I love how good I feel when I finish. And more and more, I love the way running clears my head. It’s amazing how it clears my head.
I’ve hesitated to write about running, afraid I would give it up and have one more thing to feel stupid about. But here I am smiling at the end of my run on Wednesday. January 15. And if that can happen then I think I might be a runner after all.