Y Talk: To Run or Not to Run–That is the Question by Michelle Bell

Once upon a time I loved to run. I looked forward to the time spent alone or with some really great friends as I logged thousands of training miles. I very rarely listened to music when I ran because I craved the silence and uninterrupted time to absorb the beauty of my surroundings.

Fast-forward 10 years. The number of miles I have logged in recent years has steadily declined. But getting back out on the road started weighing on my mind a few months ago. I figured I would just lace up my running shoes and pick up right where I left off.

But that’s not what happened at all. In reality I’m having a really difficult time falling back in love with something that used to be a very large part of my life. The fact that I don’t really even want to lace up my shoes and go out for a run is discouraging. I want to love it again. I want to pound the pavement on some of my favorite routes. But a lot of those routes are in the 10-mile or more range and I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around running just 3 or 4 miles.

THE GLORY DAYS

I ran track in high school and part of college, but always thought the distance runners were from another planet. When my track career ended, I completely stopped running. Then a few years after my dad died unexpectedly in 2002, running resurfaced for me. My dad had run for years and completed the JFK 50 Mile Ultramarathon five times. Running became very therapeutic for me as I mourned the loss of my dad.

I started running half marathons and eventually completed two marathons and the JFK 50 Mile. As I looked back at some of the things I wrote about my training during this time, I actually laughed out loud. I talked about how hard it was to train with two young kids.

Those two kids are now 16 and 13 and we have since added kid No. 3 who is 9. I don’t remember Isaiah and Rachel having too many pressing appointments as toddlers. Now I spend a good portion of my day in my van carting them and Eli to their various practices, games and meets and outings with friends.

I don’t know if the busyness of life is affecting my ability to fall in love with running again or not. I can’t pinpoint anything in particular, but something has definitely sucked the joy out of something I once loved.

MUSCLE MEMORY AND OTHER LIES

I had forced myself to go out on several runs this spring, but I was really struggling. I had read an article on runnersworld.com about how it won’t be as hard as you think to return to running. The article cites muscle memory and confidence returning to something you already know how to do as major reasons why it won’t be difficult to start right back up.

This was encouraging to me because I had really been feeling the tug to get back at it. My brother had been logging tons of miles in preparation for a marathon at the end of the year. He is running the marathon to get an official qualifying time to be able to run the JFK 50 Mile in 2017 – 10 years after we first completed the race. (The qualifying time rule was added after we ran it.) I really wanted to be able to do it with him – or at least I thought I did.

THE RUN WHERE I WENT CRAZY

Shortly after reading the article I headed out for a 3.5-mile run. The first mile went OK. I had planned to walk up a few of the larger hills on the route, but quickly found myself walking everything that remotely looked like an incline. Even in my prime, the first mile or two always were the worst for me. Once I would get past that point, my breathing and pace would level off and I could comfortably finish the run. As I approached mile 2 on this particular day I was hopeful that sense of comfort would kick in and I would enjoy the rest of the run.

But that point never came. At mile 3, I just stopped running. I walked and I waged a heated argument with myself on why in the world I was out there in the first place. This certainly wasn’t fun. The pounding wasn’t enjoyable. I wasn’t experiencing the often romanticized “runner’s high.” All I felt was angry and defeated.

What had been a mental argument eventually turned into an actual talking-out-loud-to-myself-like-a-crazy-person argument with about ¼ mile to go. Why can’t I see the beauty around me like I used to be able to see? Why can’t I get excited about the prospect of some alone time? If I can’t put in these short runs, how in the world am I supposed to run a marathon faster than I ever have before to qualify for the JFK again?

As I wondered out loud if I was even supposed to be doing this, I wished for some kind of sign. I wanted something concrete or tangible that would let me know if I could run again and not hate it.

I passed a section of trees and looked into the meadow to my left. Standing about 20 yards from the road was a deer. It just stood there and looked at me. I stopped and stared right back. That was my sign.

THE BEAUTY IS BACK

One of my non-runner friends said she thought that was a sign I should not run so I didn’t get run over by a deer. But I know several runner friends who would see that deer the same way I did – a sign that I could do this if I actually put my mind and feet to it. I had found the beauty around me.

So even though I was at the bottom of the big hill that leads to my development, I started running. And I ran all the way home with a smile on my face.

I have no idea if I will be able to run the marathon as fast as I need to run it to be able to qualify for the JFK, but I feel like I’m at least supposed to try.

-by Michelle Bell, Marketing Director