The sun is shining, the Cubs are playing and it finally feels like spring in Champaign! We’ve been waiting too long for this weather — hopefully it’s here to stay.
Days like today have a strange effect on me; days like today make me want to go for a run — and my family and close friends know exactly why this is strange.
Running and I have a rocky past. It all started in gym class when I was in the first grade. Everyone was brought outside and we were told about this thing called “The Mile Run.” I was confused. They wanted me to run around the recess lot nine times? As fast as I could? And our parents were allowing this torture? I just couldn’t understand the reasoning or legality.
18 minutes and 23 seconds later, I was one of the last ones to finish and I was not happy. (Yes, I still remember the exact time. This event had a profound effect on me). When our fitness reports were sent home to our parents, I was scored in the worst possible category for mile time.
I was pissed. As a child who felt that grades were the end-all-be all-determinates of your individual value to this earth, a failing grade was more than an embarrassment — it was a personal insult. I was ashamed of my poor performance and became very self-conscious of my slower-than-slow pace. I unfortunately still have this insecurity today.
My next mile time was somewhere in the 15 minute range — better, but still terrible. In middle school and junior high, my mile runs were between 12 and 11 minutes — probably the equivalent of a C in running (and I was the kid who cried in class when she got anything below a B+).
At softball practice, my coaches would joke, “Oh here comes Wagner, get your calendars out,” when they were timing our sprints. My dad would joke about the lead in my gym shoes. I grew to hate running with a fierce passion. I avoided it at all costs.
And then I met Brittany Henley.
Brittany Henley (now Brittany Redig) took over as our poms coach sophomore year and had an attitude different than any coach I had seen in the past. She was a no-nonsense woman with high expectations and a low tolerance for bulls***. Brittany kicked my butt for three whole years and it was one of the best things that could’ve happened to me.
When she introduced herself at the first meeting, we were all intimidated. Our previous coach frequently let us play “team bonding games” for the first hour of practice, let us “mark” the routine 4 out of 5 times and even relocated practice to Panera one time. Brittany had a whole different work ethic. And when she said “Bring your gym shoes to the first practice and be ready to run,” I was dreading the months to come.
During that first run, Brittany must have yelled at me a hundred times (because I stopped to walk like a hundred times). I was so slow and out of shape. It must have been really frustrating for her to watch my poor attempt at running. But, she pushed me and, for whatever reason, it was effective. She made me want to do better at something I hated more than any other physical activity known to man.
She made me push myself, and by the end of the summer before my junior year, I was in great shape and running 8 to 9 minute miles. And something strange happened — I started to enjoy running. I went on runs by myself on the weekends. I joined a gym and ran on the treadmill on days we didn’t have practice. I actually liked running and I wasn’t embarrassingly horrible. So weird.
After my last day of poms, I stopped running. No one was forcing me to work out anymore and I was at my thinnest weight in all of high school (114ish), so I didn’t worry about it. I was still dancing a lot with Orchesis, so I was in great shape. I didn’t see a change until after graduation, when I started drinking on a regular basis and stopped working out all together.
To this day, I still don’t run. I’m disappointed that I essentially wasted all of the hard work I put in to get in shape and improve my speed and endurance. Days like today remind me of how much I loved running for that brief period of time — and of how I need to start again.
Someday, I hope to run a 5k, a 10k or even a half marathon. And that means at some point I’m going to have to take that first step and go on a run. I’m nervous because I know it will be slow and short and I keep saying to myself ‘when you’re in better shape you can give it a shot.’
But, I need to stop making excuses and give myself a deadline for my first run (because I refuse to miss a deadline). The elliptical, bike and stair stepper have all been great to me, but it’s time I reacquaint myself with a treadmill. By this Friday, I’m going to run at least two miles — no excuses.
Lacing up my running shoes and channeling Brittany Redig,
Samantha