A Runner?

When did that happen? Really? Yes, I suppose I now very willingly associate myself with a sport I once detested, and even swore off openly. It’s somewhat amusing as I sit writing this, relating and reminiscing on the trials and tribulations of the first steps towards becoming a runner. All of which are stemming from a series of conversations with a fellow co-worker and friend training for her first half marathon. In reality, this half marathon is her first real introduction to running. Albeit she is doing this for an excellent cause primarily, I never shy at the opportunity to encourage someone along coming into a sport with such negative social stigmas and false stereotypes (I myself guilty of that at one time). Not to say those don’t come with some very real physical pain that most any runner can relate to with little difficulty when they themselves ventured the same path, but any of us that now indentify themselves as a runner, know that the sport gets a bad wrap from many sides.

Historically, I never really liked running, but I always admired the discipline and athleticism of those that ran. Why I didn’t like running, I can’t really say. Perhaps it had much to do with the negative press it consistently and persistently received and receives. Maybe it was because I was a heavier kid, and the thought of running whether I wanted to or not, was always associated with discomfort. Maybe it was because I was told I had low arches (and do), and running was not a good sport for me. Maybe it was because I was (and am) a cyclist, and nothing would ever compare or come close to the caliber of enjoyment I experienced there. Not to mention the weird rivalry and elitism any athlete fully engulfed in one discipline seems to have for another. However, what I can tell you, is that all of this only did one thing, and that is preventing me from adopting and loving a sport as much as I do running until my mid to late twenties.

It certainly has been a journey. I can remember watching as a kid marathoners and triathlons from small to Ironman distance, and having such strong admiration. Thinking of them as super-humans, accomplishing such unfathomable feats. Never once however, did I think I could accomplish anything along those lines. Some scientific study this, some study that on that negative affects of running. So naturally, if running was so bad, these individuals must possess some mutant powers. Of course, doesn’t that make perfect sense?!

No.

I can remember really venturing first into running in my late teens. Using it mainly as an opportunity to try to keep some level of fitness in my off-season from cycling. Or even use it in conjunction with my training on the bike. There were even a few times thinking back as I write this that I came very close to breaking that barrier into the happy world of running; that epiphany that comes all the sudden when you realize, ‘Hey, this isn’t torture…actually damn, I really enjoy this!’

I trail ran then, staying inline with the mountain bike culture and scene I was in at the time, meaning obviously if roadies were tools, so must be road runners. (We were so much more in tune with the spiritual essence of the sport!) That changed over the years, perhaps after a got a road bike (and matured). Road running slowly worked it’s way into my routine, once getting to a monumental 11 miles with my Pop pedaling by my side, but I never struck any type of consistency. And that was the theme until about three years ago.

Maybe that’s what happens to all cyclists that move to the city from regions of striking contrast. Running just became an easier and equally enjoyable outlet for me. Truthfully, pedaling for an hour over a nightmarish Brooklyn Bridge (read absent-minded tourists), then up an overly crowded west-side highway to finally escape Manhattan via the George Washington bridge to find some scenic riding northward, only to be joined by every NYC tool roadie in their club kits, soon lost it’s appeal. Or worse being pedaling in three to six mile circles through the cities biggest parks (read hamster). Sure, I realize that may be harsh, and certainly they aren’t all tools, I just miss those long rides (or short even) where you would not grace upon another soul. Ahhh, Colorado, someday you and I will meet again and settle down for good.

And so, running slowly found it’s way into my life. As with many, it was also for me, a way to keep myself in shape as I slowly became disenchanted with cycling. Surely, not initially as something I’d ever choose over pedaling. But then it happened; it I can’t really put my finger on, but a few months in, this time I knew it was for life. And strangely, it was without question one of the most difficult few months I have ever had adapting to a sport.

Running, despite the common notion of being a low barrier of entry sport, I would argue is everything but. Rather it is a very accessible sport, potentially the most accessible. All you need is a pair of (good) running shoes (or do you?), and the open road right out your front door. Although, if it were just that easy, wouldn’t everyone be in love with running? As with anything it’s what’s lost in the details, and that is educating yourself, often through trial and error. For those of us out there that are not biomechanically blessed to perfection, you will hurt when you first tackle those few miles (or hundred). I suffered through debilitating shin splints after ramping up too quickly when I first started, aiming for a marathon right away because I thought my cycling fitness would be an easy and direct transition to running. How wrong I was, and it resulted in a very frustrating eight weeks removed, and missing my marathon.

However, that was all ‘par for the course’, as instead of deterring me, it encouraged me to find just what I was doing wrong. In my case, which is often the case for me, it was simply too much, too soon. During this time, I was fitted for orthotics thinking my ailments were perhaps also because of my low arches. Ailments that besides shin splints included a mystery tightness in my right calf after five to six miles. So, with orthotics in hand, two months of rest and education, a properly fitted pair of shoes with gait analysis, and most importantly realistic expectations, I was ready to hit the road again.

So, I began again, with minimal base mileage for three months, with twice-daily strength exercising of the problem areas, and general overall core strength routine, which I can’t recommend enough. Slowly my ailments dissipated, even with the mileage increasing, I was feeling better than ever. My body adapted, I dropped the orthotics entirely a year later without issue (musculature and efficient form/technique taking their place), and soon found the challenge of running more than just a challenge, but an enjoyment. The places my feet now carry me, offer such an amazing perspective of the world I am part of. Miles upon miles in the twilight around the city and boroughs of NYC, you’d be amazed at just everything you can see.

Thus, my parting thoughts on a lengthy reflection for all those getting started, or looking at training regimes of the age-grouper to pro, is to remember that nothing happens over night. Often those looking in focus only on the end result, and are amazed at the accomplishments before them. However, just remember these races are a snapshot of an accumulation of months, years, or a lifetime of training. There are those naturally gifted, and those that will find it more difficult, but what they both share without question is that each can accomplish anything they commit themselves too. The mind is a powerful thing; and of course a little bit of love goes a long way.

So will I ever write one of these reflections for swimming? Nah!