During January of my final semester of college, I realized I have very few hobbies. I like to go to coffee shops, but my presence there is always accompanied by my laptop and study materials. I like to go to workout classes, but my schedule at the moment does not allow me to go to classes as consistently as I would like. So, at some point early in the semester, I decided that I wanted to change things up in my day-to-day life.
I like to do my research before I try new things, so I looked into the big three: sourdough, needlepoint and running. Sourdough? Sounds yummy, but I am not patient enough to let my dough rise. I am more of an instant gratification type of girl. Needlepoint? While I do enjoy a craft, I do not think I am in a place to invest in kits and supplies just yet. The daunting task of picking the perfect first design to embark on my journey into needlepoint also dissuades me from this art form. Running? Well, I already own tennis shoes and cute workout sets. And honestly, that was enough to convince me. I signed up for a half-marathon that would take place in four months. I liked the idea of being someone who enjoys running, and seeing that it was a low-commitment, low-investment hobby drew me in.
Until I actually started running.
On my first mile, I felt very enthusiastic and excited about this new relationship I was building with running. My hair was slicked back into a braided ponytail and my headphones were on with a new running playlist that included my favorite high-energy songs. I had a cute outfit on because I have a look good, feel good mentality. One minute into the run and the honeymoon phase was in full swing. Why did I not do this sooner? I was convinced that running was my soulmate until mile two came around. My legs started to feel like concrete and I seemed like I was fighting for air. Turns out drinking your body weight in iced coffee and fueling yourself solely with snacks rather than full meals does not make for great running prep.
One of my favorite affirmations comes from my Shred415 workout class instructor, Ashley DiOrio, “You can do hard things.” I used to apply this saying to my education, but I have since incorporated it into my health and wellness. So, as I trudged through the mental mud, I kept repeating this affirmation to myself until my two-mile run was completed. While I felt good after the run, I realized that this would definitely become the most love-hate relationship I would ever have.
I stayed consistent with short routes in January, but I kicked my running stint to the sideline for all of February. It was cold in St. Louis, and the early onset of darkness in the day due to daylight savings was not particularly encouraging either. But running lingered in the back of my mind like a text that I chose to ignore, even though the notification badge was bright red and begging me to open it.
By the time the first week of March came around, guilt had fully settled in. I continued to ghost running, but I still thought about it every time the unpredictable Midwest weather blessed me with a nice, warm-weathered day. The universe kept giving me signs to go for it, and I ignored every single one. Then came week two, and I knew I had to open that message. At this point, my half-marathon was only a month away, and I knew I had to commit to training. So, I laced up my tennis shoes and hoped for the best.
Weeks one and two of training had me brimming with disdain. I dragged my feet out the door each time and running felt more like punishment than progress. While I was hating on running, I decided to start taking my diet more seriously. I started to have more fun with cooking and drank a lot more water than I previously did. I still had days where I forgot to drink water or only picked out of my snack pantry, but the new habits were definitely taking root. In weeks three and four, I started to hit a wall. I could not get past the eight-to-nine-mile mark without crashing mentally. But I was convinced that the race day adrenaline would carry me through.
Next thing I knew, I was waking up at five in the morning to get ready for the St. Louis GO! half-marathon. I did not feel confident at all, but I did love my outfit. I went into the morning with a little morning affirmation a la Ashley DiOrio, some prayers sent to God and the goal to run for completion. Nikki Glaser, a St. Louis native and famous female comic, gave a nice little pep talk before the race started. While the speech did absolutely nothing to calm my nerves, I definitely had a good laugh. Thankfully, I was starting in the last corral, which is the last group called to start the race. This meant that I did not have to worry about a large horde of people running past me and that I could focus on getting into the zone.
Unfortunately, I got too deep into the zone and ran the first four miles at a pace much faster than I was used to. Darn you, race day adrenaline! Around mile six, my right knee started to ache and I was losing steam. I decided to walk mile seven to assess the situation at hand. I really wanted to give up. Everything in me wanted to find a race official and call it quits. Funnily enough, girl math convinced me to keep going. Seven miles is basically over half the race, which meant that I was basically finished, so the extra 5.1 miles were nothing, right? I picked up a much slower pace and took frequent walking breaks due to the pain in my knee. Every time I had to take a break to slow down, it weighed on me mentally and felt like a small failure. I took a bathroom break at mile eight and decided that I just needed to push through the pain and put one foot in front of the other.
What made a world of difference during my race was the buddy I made around mile 11. Her name is Abby and she works in marketing in St. Louis. She came up to me and said that she had been inadvertently using me as a pacer for the past three miles and wanted to say hi. How sweet! We chatted about our running experiences and it made miles 11 and 12 go by in a flash. It felt really good to complain about running, while running. It sounds toxic, but if it works, it works.
That last mile felt like a new battle of its own, mostly because it was uphill and my body was begging me to stop. There were so many people holding up signs and I felt a little dizzy scanning to see if I could recognize a familiar face in the crowd. Then I heard my name through the One Direction blasting in my headphones. My best friends, including two who had finished their half-marathon much earlier than I had, were cheering me on from the sidelines and they had me smiling from ear to ear. This was the exact boost I needed to keep going.
I finished the race and I could not have been more relieved. My boyfriend was waiting for me with goodies and my friend majoring in physical therapy assisted me in some recovery stretches. During this half-marathon, I complained, I limped and I doubted myself at least a million times, but the feelings of pride and disbelief were unlike anything I had ever felt before.
These feelings make me believe that running is the best hobby. It has forced me to grow my discipline and redefine strength as showing up for myself. Running is incredibly exhausting, but I am so grateful to have a body that can withstand the exertion and allow me to keep going.
Do not get me wrong, I will take a much-needed break from running after this race, but I know I will come back to it. Anything that can push me this hard, teach me this much and still leave me wanting more is something worth keeping around. You should never text back your ex-partner, but definitely pick up the phone when running calls.