Transition: Non-Runner > Runner (almost)

I used to love the phrase "I only run when chased". Well, I do still get a kick out of it. But it doesn't describe how I feel about running anymore. I am still wary of calling myself a "runner" (after all, I have not run a marathon (yet), my first 13.1 that wasn't attached to a triathlon was just this past weekend, and my speed is, well...not fast). But I no longer think of running as an escape in a bad situation. Its finally an escape to a good place.

I first ran in the 6th grade. My teacher apparently saw something in me that made him think I would be a good distance runner. He encouraged me to join the cross-country team and even gave me a book "Running for Women". This was in the early 80's and I was about 12. Somehow, running through the woods was not nearly as appealing as playing basketball, especially since at 5'4" I towered above everyone. So, I never really pursued running that year.

As I entered high school, I was still 5'4". (ok, at this moment I am still 5'4". That 6th grade growth spurt peetered out pretty quickly.) I still loved basketball but was no longer the towering giant so I explored other sports. Remembering the support from my 6th grade teacher, I tried out for the Track and Field team. That was funny. I was assigned to the 800m sprint. Seems that no one wanted that event in the meet that week, but if our school didn't have a representative in the event, we would be disqualified. Or something like that. Come to think of it, maybe that was all BS and it was just a ploy to give the rest of the team some distracting humor during the meet. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Which became very clear when I was lapped by everyone...in an 800m sprint. Ok, it is pretty funny. Needless to say, I quickly abandoned the T&F team (after briefly entertaining the thought of doing shotput because it didn't require running. Unfortunately, it did require muscles, though.)

I had very little running in my life after that. I did continue to play basketball, despite the fact that my coach's nickname for me was "the Clydesdale" and I was the back-up point guard. My friends and I started a rowing club that became rather successful and was an enormous amount of fun. It also did not require any running.  In college, I was friends with a runner who somehow convinced me to join him on a trail around a local golf course. I do recall enjoying the experience and I think I may have even done it a few times. But getting up that early really cut into my late-night party time so that, too, was short-lived.

So jump to a couple years ago, when I signed up for my first triathlon. A sprint. Which meant running a 5k at the end of the race. I trained. I didn't like it. At the race I was passed by...well, everyone. Ditto the next couple sprint triathlons. There was one that I recall where the only person I passed was walking, and then I realized that person was not even racing, they were spectating. Talk about depressing.

Like just about anything in life, though, running improves with experience, whether you like it or not. My last tri that season was an Olympic distance, which meant a 10k at the end, after a 24 mile bike ride that finished with a 6 mile uphill climb. Well, I wasn't fast. But I wasn't last. In fact, I even passed some people.  The following year I did my first half-ironman and the strangest thing went through my head when I was at about mile 50 of the 56 miles ride: "Man, I can't wait to get off this f&%$#@! bike and start running."

WHAT??!!

I laughed out loud as soon as I thought it. Anyone around me must have thought I was hallucinating. But if you know me, you know cycling is my strongpoint and my passion. The exact opposite of running. The excitement was short lived though, as I realized about 3 miles into the run that I was really only excited about running because it meant I wasn't sitting on my bike saddle anymore. (56 miles in a race is very different than a 56 mile Sunday ride).  Cut to this past October, when I did my 2nd half-ironman, the Longhorn 70.3 in Austin. Despite the course being much "rollier" than I expected, I shaved :16 off my per minute/mile average. Ok, I'm still not fast. And I didn't have that infamous Chrissie Wellington smile on my face that I thought I did, apparently ("Nina, that isn't a smile in that photo, that's a grimace.")  But I was continuing to improve and with improvement, comes enjoyment. Or at least, less hatred.

Wow, I do not know how to write a short blog. Sorry. Good time to take a bathroom break, though, if you need it.

Longhorn was the last race of my 2009 season. I decided I was going to mountain bike and try cyclocross as my off-season "stay fit but don't burn out" sports. However, work had different plans for me. In my other life I am an assistant director in television and was lucky enough to be hired on a new show that was filming in Nashville during November in December. My husband shipped my mountain bike to me at the hotel but why I thought I could put together a bike that I had ridden, like, once in the past 3 years is beyond me. Nearest bike shop was miles away, I had no car, was working about 75 hours a week....blah blah blah...end result is this half-put together mountain bike sat in the corner of my hotel room, starting at me with great disdain. I had to defeat it by doing something. The hotel didn't have a pool so swimming was out. But here I was, in the middle of this brand new city, with gorgeous roads and parks and rolling hills. I know you aren't supposed focus only on running during your off-season. But I was desperate.

Some days I ran before work through Vanderbilt campus and the all the surrounding neighborhoods. Other days I ran after work. On occasion I hit the hotel treadmill (ugh). On weekends I convinced some co-workers to take me to a local park, Percy Warner, that is quite hilly (its annual marathon boasts 3100ft of climbing) for runs of 6 to 11 miles. I never wore a heart rate strap. Never went out with a plan, I just knew how much time I had to run, and I would go.  Running became my tour guide. I couldn't wait to explore everything on my feet.  All the while the temperatures dropped. This California girl, who's wardrobe is severly lacking for cold-weather running gear, was suddenly putting on 6 cool-max shirts and chenille gloves so I could run in 24 degree weather. I was excited to find ice crystals on my fleece hat as I got in the elevator one day. I left dinners early and turned down a 2nd beer to make sure I would get up and run before work. I planned weekends around my runs. One day I became very cranky for no reason and realized I had not run in 2 days. Ran that night, and voila! Smiles. When I would visit my parents in Pittsburgh, which I was able to do 3 times during my Nashville stay, they always asked if there was anything special I wanted to do, and my answer was always, "no, just need to get some runs in". Because by this point I had signed up for my official 1st half-marathon, the LA 13.1 on Jan. 10th.

You get the picture.

Over the holidays, we were on a bit of a northern California tour to visit family and friends. By now I was up running 1:30-2 hours at a time and there were new places to explore...Redwood forest parks, the Golden Gate Bridge...I felt like a little kid. Seriously. You know how little kids get so excited to do something they just run until they can't anymore? That was me. One day we ran for 2 1/2 hours in San Francisco and I only stopped because I knew our friends were waiting on me for dinner.

Despite all of this, though, I think the defining moment for me that made me feel like I am officially a runner, had to be last week when I went to get a pedicure.

I settled into the chair and just as I was getting comfortable, I nearly kicked the poor technician in the face in reaction to her cleaning off the nail polish off. That toe looked fine though, it was just an ingrown toenail. The next toe, however...black. In all its glory. Ok, black-ish. Ha! I laughed. I smiled. And the tech looked at me like I was crazy. She started speaking to the tech next to her in Vietnamese, and I'm sure it was something like "This girl is crazy. She is laughing and happy that she has a toenail turning black. Do you hear her? She keeps babbling about how much she runs and that's just what happens when you run a lot. Going crazy must also happen." She continued on, and soon I had another knee-jerk reaction, this time to a blister I didn't know I had. More grins. More crazy talk. Finally she asked if I wanted this big white callous on my big toe rubbed off? "What callous? I have a callous?" There it was, not quite on the bottom, but easily hidden from my normal bird's eye view. Man, I have got to start looking at my feet more often. They used to be so pretty. But now, well...now, I think they are gorgeous. I decided for the first time in....uh...ever, to not get any polish. I want to be able to admire these babies. I wanted to watch my black toenail. I wanted to show off my runners feet.

As I drove home with a huge, wacky, deranged smile, I thought about a few other random things that may also mean I have officially made the transition...

*I am one of those crazy people who does not listen to anything while running. I used to. It was the only thing that got me through a run. Then one day I didn't charge my iPod and I ran without. First thing I did when I got home was charge it. Or I thought I did. Turns out it the charger was not plugged in again, I had no iPod. (well I took my husbands but that only lasted about 2 songs...I have got to buy him some music...). The next run I did finally have my music back but interestingly, I found it distracting. I'll save the details for another post but I have gone from "must have music to survive" to "prefer not to listen to anything". That's scary. (PLEASE UNDERSTAND that I do not in any way mean that running with music, podcasts, or an audiobooks is bad...I only bring it up to emphasize how my own attitude has changed toward running)

*For Christmas, my husband bought me a beautiful new purse. I returned it so I could replace my nearly worn-out Newtons. Sorry honey.

*I signed up for DailyMile. For the 3rd time. But now I actually use it. Along with Athlinks and BuckeyeOutdoors. I even started a blog, though I can only hope to be as funny as PunkRockRunner, as informative as ChicRunner, as passionate at Runrgrl, and as inspiring as every other blog out there that I read (check out my list...its a lot).

*When I was filling out the "my favorite books" line in my Blogger profile, "Born to Run" has replaced "A Prayer for Owen Meany" as my favorite book.

*I love seeing runners out on the road. I cheer them on in my head. Or outloud.

*A 30 minute run seems like a nice short workout, even if its speedwork. Ha. Take that, mountain-bike-that-I-couldn't-put-together.

And finally, (yes, finally...I swear I will work on my editing skills), when Dana and I lived in New York in the mid-90's, I remember watching the NY marathon on TV because Dana was working the TV production side of it. And I distinctly remember saying to him "Anyone who runs a marathon is certifiably insane. Who the hell would do that to themselves? I have never seen a healthy looking runner. Forget it. I'm sticking to roller-blading."

Well, sometime this past December I started seriously considering the LA Marathon. This past Sunday I ran the LA 13.1. and I told myself if I could finish under 2:10 I would sign up. I ran 2:08, finished strong and with negative splits. Guess I am now one of the certifiably insane. Which makes sense since I donated my roller blades to Goodwill years ago.

Lucky for you I now have to go run. Or else who knows how long this post would go on....