When I was getting ready to go into high school, my mom gently suggested I join the cross-country team. I scoffed at the very idea. Running 3 miles? For FUN??!? No, thanks.
But, my mom, being less than subtle about what she wanted for me to experience and accomplish, wisely pushed the issue--and so, being the obedient daughter that I was (I never did end up going through that rebellious phase most teenagers experience), I joined the team just before my freshman year. It was a good opportunity to get a varsity letter as a freshman, which I knew would look good on a college application, and I gained some wonderful friendships from the experience.
Was I good? Not in the least--I grew 4 inches from my freshman year to my sophomore year, which gave me a little bit of an advantage and helped me get some of the fastest times I would ever have (still very average, by the way), but by my Junior year, I had started filling out, which slowed me down. Drastically.
I had two goals when I started cross-country--my first was to never stop to walk during any race, and my second was to never come in last. I ended up accomplishing both goals, but barely--I even came in second to last in one race during my Senior year, which was both humiliating and frustrating, especially because I was working the hardest I had ever worked up to that point--if my coach asked us to run 4 miles during practice, I would run 6. If he had us do 8 hill workouts, I would do 10. And yet, the harder I pushed myself, the slower I got.
I did end up getting my varsity letter for all four years of Cross-Country (one of the benefits of such a tiny team was that everyone was desperately needed, hence, everyone lettered), but other than that, I never medalled in even the tiny races, I never qualified for State, and I never even beat my own Personal Record from my sophomore year.
Most people would probably consider my Cross-Country experience a failure--the average attempts of a less-than-average runner--and at first, I would have tended to agree with those people.
But now that I have been seriously training for this marathon for 6 weeks now, I am realizing just what Cross-Country did give me.
It taught me a passion for running. It taught me the empowerment and self-esteem that come from strengthening and using my body the way it was meant to be used. It taught me about setting and achieving goals, whether long-term or short-term. It taught me that no matter how hard it seems, I can always just go at least one more step--and when I do that, I find that I can usually do one more. And another one after that.
This morning, I ran 10 miles.
10 miles, people. That is literally the distance from the north end of my town to the south end of the neighboring town--and back again. I know, because I ran it this morning.
That is a LONG ways. And I didn't enjoy every moment of it--I didn't drink as much as I should have, it got hot, and by the end, I was dehydrated, exhausted, and frustrated to hear how much slower my time was getting than I wanted it to be. When I hit 9 miles and knew that I still had a mile to go, I wanted nothing more than to sit down right there on the sidewalk and call Steve to come pick me up.
But I didn't. I finished--and although by the end I'm sure I looked as pathetic as I felt as I slowly limped that last half mile home, I DID IT!!
Pretty empowering, if you ask me.
Training for this marathon is intimidating, scary, and exhausting--but I am SO glad I'm doing it.
6 weeks down--14 to go!!
But, my mom, being less than subtle about what she wanted for me to experience and accomplish, wisely pushed the issue--and so, being the obedient daughter that I was (I never did end up going through that rebellious phase most teenagers experience), I joined the team just before my freshman year. It was a good opportunity to get a varsity letter as a freshman, which I knew would look good on a college application, and I gained some wonderful friendships from the experience.
Was I good? Not in the least--I grew 4 inches from my freshman year to my sophomore year, which gave me a little bit of an advantage and helped me get some of the fastest times I would ever have (still very average, by the way), but by my Junior year, I had started filling out, which slowed me down. Drastically.
I had two goals when I started cross-country--my first was to never stop to walk during any race, and my second was to never come in last. I ended up accomplishing both goals, but barely--I even came in second to last in one race during my Senior year, which was both humiliating and frustrating, especially because I was working the hardest I had ever worked up to that point--if my coach asked us to run 4 miles during practice, I would run 6. If he had us do 8 hill workouts, I would do 10. And yet, the harder I pushed myself, the slower I got.
I did end up getting my varsity letter for all four years of Cross-Country (one of the benefits of such a tiny team was that everyone was desperately needed, hence, everyone lettered), but other than that, I never medalled in even the tiny races, I never qualified for State, and I never even beat my own Personal Record from my sophomore year.
Most people would probably consider my Cross-Country experience a failure--the average attempts of a less-than-average runner--and at first, I would have tended to agree with those people.
But now that I have been seriously training for this marathon for 6 weeks now, I am realizing just what Cross-Country did give me.
It taught me a passion for running. It taught me the empowerment and self-esteem that come from strengthening and using my body the way it was meant to be used. It taught me about setting and achieving goals, whether long-term or short-term. It taught me that no matter how hard it seems, I can always just go at least one more step--and when I do that, I find that I can usually do one more. And another one after that.
This morning, I ran 10 miles.
10 miles, people. That is literally the distance from the north end of my town to the south end of the neighboring town--and back again. I know, because I ran it this morning.
That is a LONG ways. And I didn't enjoy every moment of it--I didn't drink as much as I should have, it got hot, and by the end, I was dehydrated, exhausted, and frustrated to hear how much slower my time was getting than I wanted it to be. When I hit 9 miles and knew that I still had a mile to go, I wanted nothing more than to sit down right there on the sidewalk and call Steve to come pick me up.
But I didn't. I finished--and although by the end I'm sure I looked as pathetic as I felt as I slowly limped that last half mile home, I DID IT!!
Pretty empowering, if you ask me.
Training for this marathon is intimidating, scary, and exhausting--but I am SO glad I'm doing it.
6 weeks down--14 to go!!
Comments
...I went shopping with 5 kids at Costco...I think there should be a letter for that. Can we start some mommy club (like scouts or something) where we earn badges (or chocolate)for doing hard things...like shopping with our kids...or training for a marathon (for goodness sake!) on top of all the other "mommy must-do's."?
Interestingly, running is something I have found it easy to be proud of my own accomplishments and those of others without feeling the need to compare. So what if Joe Blow blows past me and 3 miles is a warmup to him. 3 miles in 30 minutes is great for me, so I celebrate it in my mind. Good for you for celebrating your ten miles, even if you felt "pathetic" or your running skills are "average." I say 10 miles is above average for you so that's all that matters.
Geez, I wish it was as easy to not compare myself to others in other things besides running.