I’ve always hated running.
In part because I was simply not good at it. I played competitive soccer my entire life, and never was I the fastest girl on the team. We’d run sprints and timed miles and suicides and snakes and on and on and on. I got better over time, and as I got older, sure, but so did everyone else. I always felt like I had to work twice as hard just to keep up.
It didn’t help that I developed asthma. How does one “develop” asthma? Great question. I don’t really know, but suddenly running wasn’t just tough, it was awful. My chest constricted against my will, and every breath sounded like a final wheeze before I died on the field. The more stressed or emotional I was, the worse my breathing became, too. So, tack on high school stress, emotions, pressure, and COVID in addition to my struggle with physical fitness, and I was a goner.
When I graduated and came to college, I was thankful for what I planned on being a change of pace. No more forced running or other cruel cardio. I could quit something that brought me no joy and find other avenues to fitness.
I couldn’t give up soccer, though, so inevitably, I still found myself needing to maintain my running shape. After a handful of seasons on the club team and little motivation to run on my own time, my cardio fitness slipped. Okay, it was a landslide. My asthma kicked my butt. I struggled to play for more than 20 minutes at a time when I used to be able to play entire matches.
It all culminated last November when our team made the national tournament. We competed against other club teams who were frankly in much better shape. We got crushed. That was alright; we tried our best and had some fun, but I was bothered by my performance. I suffered from asthma attacks, lost steam quickly, and I felt ashamed of my abilities. I felt like I was letting my team and myself down.
My attitude in college has been much more focused on taking care of myself in ways that I can handle and that bring me joy. Having been a lifelong athlete, the release of pressure was wonderful. But I stopped pushing myself. I realized that after nationals. In the name of leaving toxic cardio behind, I abandoned the challenge of fitness. I always had a fitness test to pass, a game to win, a goal to strive for. When my goal was to “stay healthy,” I lost out on new ways to improve my health further.
So, a friend of mine and I set a goal. We were going to train for and run the Cowtown Half Marathon in Fort Worth. No real experience, just pure delusion and a dream. A goal.
We decided to try our best. Push where we could but keep a steady pace. I wanted to improve my lung and cardio health as well as my fitness confidence. She wanted to try something she’d always talked about but never committed to. The perfect team.
We stole a training plan from the internet, and from November to February, we ran. I mean, we ran. What started as 30 minutes of jog/walk intervals expanded into 10-mile long runs and weeks where we were putting in almost over 20 miles of training. I remember our first 5K in the freezing cold and pitch black. I remember our first 10K and how unbelievably proud of ourselves we were. And, just last week, we checked off a 10-mile training run and made incredible time.
Our race is in less than a week. We’re nervous but excited. After months of hard work, I can’t wait to reap the rewards. Selfishly, I’m excited for the rush of adrenaline that comes with competition and the high of being handed a medal for a job well done.
Don’t be fooled. The training for this race has been hard. Late nights, early mornings, and hours sacrificed. But for now, I want to focus on the positives and the anticipation I have for what comes next. Needless to say, if an asthmatic, avid hater of running can train for a half marathon, you can too.
Be on the lookout for Part 2 of this journey after the Cowtown is over. I can’t wait to share the plan I used, the gear I loved, and my final thoughts about the journey and the race. Will I have a future in running? Well, I said never once, and look where we are now…