runner

About two months ago I received an e-mail from a friend of mine asking if I would like to join a running group. After my body stopped shuddering at the thought of running anywhere for any reason, I had a good laugh and then pushed delete! I don’t run. I am not a runner. Other than the compulsory 1KM run of shame in junior high, I have never run in my entire life (not counting the time after my daughter was born when I decided to get back in shape, ran one block, peed my pants, burst into tears and then slunk home, determined NEVER to do that again!).

Being the determined person that she is (and one of the crazy types who LOVES to run), my friend kept asking me about it. And I kept saying NO! I can’t. I don’t like to run. I don’t have time. I’ve got bad knees… I heard that a few of our friends had joined but I easily dismissed their participation because they were all runners wanting to get back into shape. I could NEVER keep up with them. Then, a couple of my non-runner friends decided to give it a try. They assured me that they were NOT runners and also weren’t sure that they would be able to run for even a minute. And they, like me, were not 25 anymore. Somehow I had a change of heart and decided to give it a try. They promised me that we would take it slow. We’d build up gradually. Just watch, they said, you’ll surprise yourself.

Our first run was 8 weeks ago on a Sunday evening. I nearly threw up as I changed into my running gear (which was really just an assortment of yoga pants, tank tops and a long, black sweatshirt that I desperately hoped would hide the hips I hate so much). I joked that I must really love this group of women since I was willing to wear SPANDEX in PUBLIC while it was still LIGHT outside.

Feeling sick to my stomach and wondering what on EARTH I was doing, I arrived at our meeting spot. My friends were all stretching so I joined in, pretending to know what I was doing. I went to the bathroom no less than 5 times while we waited for everyone to arrive. And then we began. Walk 5 minutes. Run for one. I really, really didn’t think that I could do it. I just wanted to go home and eat the tasty dessert I had made earlier in the day (and that, my friends just might be one of the reasons I’m needing to work so hard at getting back into shape!).

When our first minute of running was up, I was surprised how quickly it had passed (and that I was still breathing). Maybe, just maybe, I might be able to do this after all.

Our running group continued to meet every Sunday and Tuesday for the next eight weeks, shortening our walks and lengthening our runs each time we met. After a couple of weeks, I started running by myself on Thursday afternoons. Seriously. 5K each time, by myself.

I actually started to enjoy our runs. It felt good to move my body, to be outside, to do something just for me. I looked forward to seeing my friends, laughing about the funny things our kids did, encouraging each other, giving advice for sleepless babies, diaper rash, budgeting, the best way to keep the many, many socks that overwhelm our homes at bay.

As the weeks passed, I saw changes in my body. I was stronger. I had more energy. I felt happier. My calves had muscle. My hips were slimming. I fit back into jeans that had been sitting in my bottom drawer for three years. More importantly, I became part of a community of strong, inspiring, beautiful women who have touched my heart and helped me to draw closer to the God we love.

This past Sunday my community of women helped me accomplish one of my life goals. I never thought that I’d be able to do it (and had never actually admitted it as a goal out loud before) but with the help of my friends, I ran my first 5K race. Seriously. I RAN IN A 5K RACE with a starting line and timing chip and a medal and everything! The run itself was really rough for me. I came into it exhausted because our family has been sick for the last 10 days. I didn’t have any energy. I missed one of my runs the week before. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it. The first 2.5K was all up hill. We were running an 8/1 pattern. The first 8 minutes was ok. The second was tough but my second set is usually my hardest. And then it didn’t get better like it usually does. It got worse. Much, much worse. I was nearly in tears. I couldn’t catch my breath and I had a terrible stitch. Everything in me wanted to quit. I was so frustrated that one of the worst runs I had ever had was happening on race day. And then my friends circled me. The two women I was running with came along side me pouring out words of encouragement, prayer, distracting stories. They pointed out the beauty of the trees that lined the river. The mist from the falls rising in the distance. The 8 year old running in front of us (I was so not getting schooled by an 8 year old!). Their words, their presence, their faith in me drew me closer and closer to the finish line. I was going to do it, to finish, to realize a goal. As I ran, my lungs burned. My legs felt like lead but my heart grew lighter and lighter. My body was gutting it out but my heart was being healed because as we ran towards the finish line, I knew that I belonged. That I was part of something. That I mattered. That I could do it. My dear friends stuck with me to the end even though they could have gone on ahead and gotten a much better time. Finishing together was more important to them than getting a personal best.

We crossed the finish line. The crowd cheered. We all hugged. Our other friends joined us. We did it! We accomplished our goals. For some it was a personal best, for others a new distance and for some of us, just completing a race for the first time. We wove the threads of our friendship more tightly. We built a community.

Now I can tell you, I run. I AM A RUNNER!

But more importantly, I belong.

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