As someone who comes from a family of runners, it’s hard to not feel inferior. I’ve always pressured myself to be the best, or at least mediocre, at running. Growing up, my family participated in various “fun runs” that were either 3ks or 5ks. Elementary school me was typically fond of these races because it meant that I got free food afterward. But once middle school came around, running lost its appeal.
In seventh grade, my mom enrolled me in the middle school cross-country program. I was not, and am still not, very coordinated, so any sport that was cardio-related was my best option. Whenever my friends and I were given the freedom to run around the neighborhood at our own pace, I was elated. No adult was there to pressure me to go faster or tell me to stop walking. It was the drills that got to me the most, especially the godforsaken “Indian Run” (problematic name, I know). This drill involved running in a single file line behind a leader. Everyone would take turns running to the front and everyone who followed them had to match the pace. Absolute hell.
I got away with avoiding some of the most challenging drills when I was in cross-country, but then my mom enrolled me in track in the spring of seventh grade. Track and field was nothing but drills. I remember one of the coaches struggling to figure out where to put me: was I going to be a long-distance or short-distance runner? I hoped for neither.
On the second day of track practice, I got the overwhelming sense that the sport was not for me. Once the “Indian Run” was announced, I felt my throat close up and I was fighting back tears. Everyone knew that I couldn’t keep up, and by the time the first lap around the track was over, I stopped running and started crying. I was experiencing a panic attack. My mom was visibly frustrated with me because she probably thought that I was trying to get out of running. I really wanted to run, but not under all the pressure my peers and coaches put on me. She took me home and unenrolled me from track. I did not run for many years after that.
Since the beginning of this year, I’ve wanted to try running again. I didn’t get started until the middle of March when I spontaneously signed myself up for the Bolder Boulder 10k. Although I might not be able to run the full 6.2 miles, I at least want to try and see what I’m capable of. Signing up for the 10k forced me to run again, but it has not come without its challenges.
To avoid a mental breakdown on the treadmill, I started by running a mile as slowly as I could. I did not want to scare myself away from running by going too fast. I was incredibly proud when I finished running that mile, the first one in years. However, I knew that one mile was not going to cut it in the 10k. Each week, I’ve been challenging myself to go further, even if that means I have to walk half of the way. Despite the frequent pain in my ankles, knees, and hips, I’ve pushed myself to distances I did not know I was capable of. I started icing my swollen joints, taking painkillers, drinking protein shakes, and investing in proper running socks. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it properly.
Although my main goal is to simply finish the 10k, another goal of mine is to improve my internal thoughts. I’ve always been very harsh on myself, especially when it comes to physical activity. Instead of telling myself that I was not good enough to race and that I should just quit, I switched my habits and started to think more positively. During the very first mile I completed, I kept telling myself to go as slow as I needed to because everyone runs at their own pace. The differences between negative and positive internal thoughts are astounding. My negative thoughts sparked panic attacks when I was younger, but my positive thoughts have pushed me to go the distance.
I like to remind myself that everyone is competing against themselves when they race. I’m not looking to win a trophy or a scholarship of any kind; I am simply doing this for me. The small act of changing my internal thoughts has affected me positively in aspects of my life beyond just running. I find myself not becoming easily overwhelmed every time I am faced with a minor inconvenience. Running has taught me patience and perseverance, and it has allowed me to conquer other challenges in my life.
Despite being afraid of running a year ago, I am beyond grateful that I’ve overcome that fear recently. Instead of looking at running as a form of punishment, I’ve started to think of it as a form of freedom. Not only have I conquered a huge fear of mine, but I have also gained a new hobby that I love.