I’m doing that thing again where I write about what happened last weekend, this weekend. To be fair, last weekend was quite busy, so I didn’t really have time to write about it while I was living it. And while I may have been able to find some time this week, the truth is that I spent the majority of the week being unexplainably cranky. Even if I had written something, it would have read something like this, “I don’t even remember what I did last weekend, because today is enshrouding me in an endless cocoon of misery.”
I’m pretty sure this is not how I meant to tell this story. Let’s start over.
Last weekend, I ran a 5K.
Wait. That’s not how I want to tell it either. Let’s start over again.
My sister is a runner. A serious runner. A multiple-marathon-finisher runner. I know this is true, because I’ve gone to watch her run quite a few of these marathons. She is an excellent marathon runner. I am an excellent marathon watcher. It all works out rather well.
I love watching marathons. I like watching the elite runners, the ones who have a body fat percentage of .03% and who haven’t ingested anything other than brown rice and broiled chicken breast in 13 years. I like watching the 83-year old lady, tottering along at the end of the pack, humming to herself as she goes. And I like watching everyone who comes in between. What’s amazing about watching a marathon is that you get to see people of all shapes, sizes and ages accomplishing a tremendous athletic feat. Somewhere in the middle of watching all those people go by, the truth of it always hits me: anyone can be a runner.
Except me. I am not a runner. I am a watcher of runners.
This past May we went to visit my sister on Memorial Day weekend, as we usually do, because it is her usual race weekend. She wasn’t running a marathon this time, due to a lack of time to train, and instead was running a half-marathon as part of a two-person relay. I watched her and all those other folks do their wondrous thing and then, afterwards, I did the stupidest thing I’ve done in years. I guess I was still under the inspirational haze of watching all those various sized, shaped, and aged folk achieve their great achievement, or perhaps I was drunk, but what I did was this: I looked her in eye and I said, “Hey, maybe I should start running and then I’ll do the relay with you next year.”
And her face lit up and she said, “That would be GREAT.”
Oh, dear. Oh, whoops.
I went back home and thought about my folly. And I guess I was still drunk lo those many days later, because it still seemed like it wouldn’t be a bad idea. I’d been meaning to get back into regular exercise anyway. Maybe this would be a good way to get moving again. Perhaps I should start smaller, though, right? Perhaps I should see if there were any nearby 5Ks coming up in the late summer. That would be a good way to test my running ability. So I checked and, guess what? There was a 5K right in my very town in mid-September. This was all still seeming like a reasonable plan.
So I did the second stupidest thing I’ve done in years.
I went on Facebook and I posted, “Who wants to run a 5K with me on September 17th?”
About four friends, who clearly secretly hate me, jumped on the idea. Now I had to do it.
That’s why, starting in June, I went running three evenings a week after putting the kids to bed. I went running on cool nights, hot nights, and perfect nights. I ran in the rain and I ran in the sun. When I started, way back when, it was light until nearly nine and the mosquitoes were so thick that they bounced of my forehead. By the time September rolled around, I was wearing only white and affixing blinky lights to me so I wouldn’t get hit by a car while bats danced above me. I ran my way through just about every album on Michael’s iTouch in my search for good running music. I ran without music, in case that worked better. I ran and I ran and I ran. Minute after minute, hour after hour, night after night, mile after wretched mile.
I hated every second of it.
At first, my mantra was, “You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.” After a bit, positive reinforcement gave way to drill sergeant, “Don’t quit. Don’t quit. Don’t quit.” And that eventually gave way to grumpy resignation, “I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.”
I kept thinking that it would, eventually, get easier. That my lungs would stop feeling like they were trying to leap out of my body and that my legs would feel less like 40 pound weights and more like springboards. It never happened. I finally built up my distance to three miles and decided to start timing myself, trying to increase my speed. I somehow, against all odds, got slower each time. One day when I was having a particularly rough time I walked more than usual. And yet, when I stopped the timer, I had somehow completed the loop faster than ever before. It appears that I walk faster than I run. That pretty much destroyed the remaining shreds of my good attitude.
I started complaining mightily to anyone who would listen and many who were just being polite. I swore that I wasn’t going to run another step after the race was over. I cursed every step of my three-mile loop. I began demanding that Michael tell me how proud he was of me, because nothing screams “triumphant athlete” quite as much as browbeating one’s spouse into praising one repeatedly.
After all of that, the day of the race was a bit anticlimactic. Michael, the kids, and my mother came into town to watch. I ran the race with the one friend who could make it after all. I walked a particularly vicious uphill section. Okay, fine, two uphill sections. Possibly three. It’s all kind of a blur. I didn’t make my very, very slow goal time. I was beaten by the young (age 8!) and old (age 67!). I finished. I checked it off the list.
I didn’t run at all this week.
I think I’m starting to like myself again. The evening has become something enjoy, rather than dread. Most importantly, I feel pretty confident in my role as a watcher of runners. I am really, really good at watching the runners.
There’s only one problem, of course.
Does anyone want to run a half-marathon on Memorial Day weekend next year? I know a really awesome partner.
Come on. Do it. I’ll even throw you an extra packet of goo.
I was seriously thinking this post was going to end with “and now I love it and ran 50 miles.” Glad to know someone else is a non-athlete. That said, I just made my six-year-old go on a (very short, very slow) run with me. He hated it! It’s genetic!
There will be no 50 mile runs. No. No no.
Nooooo.
You know I wlove you and I wont make you do it. Just come and watch the kids and feed when its over. 🙂
me.. feed me when it’s over. sheesh.
Thanks Cherie !! I thought I was the only person in the world that doesn’t like running.Ever since my 9th grade football coach told me I ran like a pregnant gazelle,my running has been little or nothing.I’m just so proud that you did it.See u’ll soon
Wagging my tail, I run all day and night— then sleep in the driveway.
Every good (or bad) experience should be written after a week of introspection. Hats off to you for finishing, no matter what place or how many hill walks it took. I have no interest in running whatsover, not even for a packet of goo (it isn’t by chance chocolate raspberry-flavored goo, is it?).
Ah, perhaps you saw my posts earlier this summer? Somehow you and I managed to do the same thing.. I, too, posted who wants to run a 5K with me in a moment of delerium, THEN went out and tried to do it. I think I made it a mile the first run. I. Hate. Running. I run like a fat kid with a twinkie in each hand. But I suffered through it, ran and ran and ran and sweated and complained and woke up with Charlie horses….then never did the 5K. Congratulations on doing yours! So proud of you! I’ve taken up biking now. Its slightly less torturous. Slightly.
I thought you were a runner. Why did I think you were a runner? I’m glad you are not a runner. I’ve kind of decided that all runners are nuts.
I haven’t run more than 50 consecutive yards since high school, when they made us run four laps around the track once a year for the president, or some such thing. I currently work on a busy 5+ lane section of Commercial Street, and even when I have to hustle across to the Circle K (to get my lunchtime fritos), “I hate this, is this almost over yet?” kicks in around step four. I’m not a total fat slob, and you didn’t strike me as one the last time we met – I just think running’s not for everyone. Have you tried watching biking?
Have they stopped doing the presidential runs? Is that what the problem is with youth today? And the presidents?
I hate running too. I ride a bike. I see more stuff, the self-generated breeze cools me and there’s no pounding jiggling, shaking or jarring of the body. I like machines so I ride one and it seems to make me happy…maybe you too? I have a friend named Daniel. He rides a bike A LOT and he’s always smiling. Maybe would work for you. Then you could ride alongside your sister as she runs.
Annnnd now, I am sure I don’t want to be a runner. Even though all the cool kids are doing it. Except you and me. We’re cool. But not runners.
I love all these non-runners coming out of the woodwork. Where are all the runners that I know?
Good for you – that’s awesome (but I’m not a runner, not at ALL.)
I’m so in awe of you running that 5k, but I’m glad to know that you still hate it. I hate running, and pretty much everyone says “oh, you’ll grow to love it.” No, no I won’t. My knees won’t, and my lungs won’t, and I SURE won’t. So I’m glad to see you validate my feelings on running.
But SERIOUS props for doing it. Sticking with it all summer and then doing the race. You are a better woman than me.
Yes, the “you’ll grow to love it” people. They are liars. You will not grow to love it. It’s terrible.
I read this post with great interest. I’ve been having recurring dreams about running for some time. I decided they must mean something. So I started running on the treadmill again. My goal of a one mile in nine minutes or less is yet to be achieved. I hate every minute of running but I’m addicted to how I feel afterward. So I keep doing it. Plus I hate those dreams. Hats off to you for training and completing the 5K. Really. Give yourself credit. You get extra points for running in rain. That I could never do unless it was to save my life.
I wanted to run a 5k when we still lived in the vineyards of Oregon. And then the day before the race, Bad Pants was told he’d have to deal with a work crisis on race day. There was no way I was going to take my 8 yr olds into the heart of downtown Portland and leave them unsupervised while I ran.
Then we moved to Hotlanta, where I don’t want to work out IN my house during the summer, much less run outdoors. I do want to run, and I do like it when I’m doing it, because it’s a form of active meditation for me. I just have to get off my rear and DO it.
I admire you for completing your 5k. Congrats! It’s another thing you can check off your list and a story to tell your grandkids one day!
See, I kept hoping it would turn into active meditation, because that’s what walking is for me. But I couldn’t do anything but think about how miserable I was. That thought shoved everything else out. *sigh*
So… Why not walk a 5k for charity or something? No one said you have to RUN. If walking works for you, then walk away, Sista!
Cherie, I need to read your blog more often than I do. I smile every time. Congrats on the 5K. Well done. A friend of mine told me that eventually if you run enough your body will start to crave it. It took longer than I expected but it’s true. Keep trying, it’ll happen eventually!
I just ran Reach the Beach Relay (Cannon Mtn NH to Hampton Beach NH) with Steve, Kate-O and others. Spring relay in May (Wachusett Mtn MA to Westport MA).
I think you’ll appreciate this video.
Hi to the fam.