How did I get here?!??!

Running was forced upon me. My guidance counselor in high school came to my homeroom one day in 9^th grade and insisted that I show up for track practice after school. He walked away before I could even open my mouth and say a word. I only lasted for one season of outdoor track during the spring and then one season of cross-country in the summer and fall. I did not enjoy running, and I made it obvious with my pathetic overall times after each race.

Even though I only lasted one season on an organized “running team”, I occasionally would get back on the road and finish a run. I began to run on my terms, at my pace, and it was ok to stop when I didn’t feel like running anymore. I even ran the neighborhood 5K races every year. The problem with running was every time I would “give it my all” in a race, I would end up getting sick! There is nothing more embarrassing than getting sick during a road race. I look back and can remember all of the times this problem affected my races. For example, Columbus Day, 1996, I am gaining speed and the leader is in my sight. One of the race officials tells me I am in second place. “Who, me?” I ask in amazement. One mile left, I can see the leader, all I have to do is get over this last hill and I am going to win this race and show everyone that I can compete as a runner. Wait, stop, hold the victory celebration, that is me off the path, hunched over and losing my breakfast!

Years later, with a half mile to go in a 5K race, a co-worker tells me we need to push it to the finish. We turn the last corner and hundreds of people are cheering us up the last hill. I’m almost there, ten feet till the finish, then, ugh, there is me again, hunched over, my co-worker pushing me over the finish, and I can hear hundreds of people screaming a collective… “EWWW!!” I can’t open my eyes, all I can hear is “If he doesn’t stop soon, we will need to get the paramedics over here!” I did stop, but I was extremely embarrassed. After that race, I vowed never to run again. I was convinced that running was not worth it, I could not control my stomach and I would find a different way to exercise.

Six months past and it came time to decide whether or not I wanted to run in the neighborhood Gaspee Days 5K that I had signed up for the previous three years before. This was the one race I ran every year but once again I never took seriously. I would go out the night before and attempt to run in the race hung over on four hours of sleep. The one year I did go to bed early the night before and “give it my all” I felt that “sick” feeling with about a half mile left and pulled on the brakes, saving myself from humiliation but throwing away my chance at a personal best.

Which begs the question, why, after all of these negative running experiences, am I two weeks away from running in my first half marathon in Nashville, TN? I will explain exactly “how I got here” in my next post.