Madrid High Trestle Run
I have to start by telling
you that this has been an overwhelming year for me. After much patience, about a year ago my
husband and I reached the “right time” to try to have a baby. I have 2 kids from my previous marriage and
knew that having a baby might be an uphill climb for us. He has no children and I’ve had some mild
infertility issues in the past. I wanted
to do everything I could to make this happen.
I am hesitant to admit that I
have always been a yo-yo diet and exerciser.
I wasn’t born with good genetics and my brain fights my body on the
injustice of that. I go back and forth
between accepting what God gave me and wanting to live how I want to live with
remembering how incredible I feel when I’m in good shape and my clothes fit
better.
So when this crazy chick from
the YMCA (Kathy, you know who you are) kept bugging me while on the elliptical
to join the boot camp, I finally gave in.
I have never been a fan of group exercise, but it was go time and I
wanted to do everything I could to help the process, most importantly, reducing
my BMI.
I had no idea what to expect
with this boot camp. It’s at a YMCA in
the dink town of Boone, Iowa; it couldn’t be that bad, right? My only training to this point had been an
elliptical for 3-4 days a week, 45 minutes.
I was not prepared for what was to come.
We “ran” a mile before every class.
By that, I mean that I ran about 2 blocks, then cried because it was too
hot and I couldn’t breathe. Then in the
Iowa heat we would run more, only taking breaks to do calisthenics. I would have to say that my favorite class
was when we were flipping tractor tires in 90-degree heat (please note
sarcasm). It was a pretty inspiring
group and after all of their encouragement it was easy for me to agree to the
next session. Then before I know it,
someone invited me to run with them after class. I’d never really felt like I belonged
anywhere so I jumped on the opportunity, despite the fact that I didn’t think
that I was physically capable. Then
before I know it, I’m running! Don’t get
me wrong, I’ve run before, but only on my treadmill, in a climate-controlled
space, where nobody could see. For those
of you who remember, I always felt like Phoebe in that episode of friends that
she ran with Rachael, arms and legs flailing embarrassingly.
Before I know it, I am
calling these women friends and I have a support system. Flash forward to November. At this point I had decided that if I looked
like a runner I would feel like a runner, you know the old saying… dress the
part. I was still trying to convince
myself that I could use the title of “runner.”
Dressed in my best cold weather gear and with 2 awesome people at my
side, I ran over 6 miles on the High Trestle Bridge in Madrid, IA at
30-degrees, just before a 12 hour shift at work. I had just enough time to thaw out my hair
before getting there just barely on time.
I WAS a runner!
About a week later a group of
us planned to go for a run. Daylight
savings time was not my friend that night and it was darker than we had
expected. While running towards a more
well lit area I fell. I’ll save you the
gory details and just say that I chipped a bone in my ankle, almost completely
tore one ligament, and slightly damaged another. And my world came crashing in on me. I felt like I lost my identity and was
failing in life. I wasn’t a runner
anymore and we still weren’t pregnant. I
felt defeated, like the world had beat me down and put me back where I
belonged. But this time it was
different. I had friends! They supported me, accepted me, and
encouraged me in my goals. I went to
physical therapy and continued to run on an anti-gravity treadmill. I recovered from my injury. Yet somehow I slipped deeper into a
depression. I had gained back the weight
I had lost and found myself making excuses for not trying. My friends were all continuing on their
journey of doing races every month, I kept convincing myself that I was still a
runner despite my lack of actually running.
So when a race came up in my hometown, on my day off, it was time to
prove to myself that I still was. I was
determined to do that 5K. I’m sure
you’re all waiting to hear how all that positive thinking and the support of my
friends, I slayed that race, right? Not
even close! I like to blame weather for
some of my shortcomings so God made it easy that day by blessing us with a temp
of 92 with 85% humidity. I was barely
past the starting line when I was sweating like a pig and gasping for air. Between allergies, asthma, weather
conditions, and let me be the most honest, my complete lack of exercise and
training, I was sure that this race was going to do me in. Our group openly accepts honorary members for
races and this race was a woman who hadn’t trained a lot agreed to stay with
me. She told me her goals for racing;
cross the finish line, have fun. So
that’s what I did. And her words and
support made me realize what was blaringly obvious in the racing run
world. There is always someone there to
support you. Within one silly race I
felt like I hit an all time low and a high at the same time. I had to admit that I was out of shape and in
a bad place. I also realized that I was
in the right place to run right back to the top. In my experiences, I don’t feel like I’ve
ever been judged by another runner. I’m
sure there are many that are competitive; I’ve always been too far behind to be
familiar with that group. What I can say
is that when you show up with the determination to finish a race, there is
never a shortage of perfect strangers, fellow runners, to cheer you on and help
reach those goals of having fun and crossing the finish line. I also believe that when you have the heart
of a runner, there is no room for judgments.
I never feel more like myself than when I run, it reminds me who I
am. The world gets quit and I find my
center. There are no kids screaming for
my constant attention, no thoughts of my fertility failures, no messy house to
take care of. It’s just me, my breath,
and my favorite music, and if only for a moment, the world feels right.
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