A New Day

A new day.  A new blog, with a new address.

Maybe a new me?

Well, maybe not a new me, but a new frame of mind, and a new attitude.

I've not blogged in a couple of months and as I last wrote, life was swirling about in crazy ups and downs that were frankly making me a little airsick.  I think I'm in a better place now--I certainly feel better.

I went ahead a imported my previous blog posts from Running Without Fear because as I read through them, there was some truth there.  And to delete them was to say they hadn't happened, and I didn't feel very good about that.

So, I think an update is in order.

In my weight loss journey, I was living from daily weigh in to daily weigh in, from calorie to calorie.  I was trying to eat the absolute least amount possible to not send my body into starvation mode, but wring out every last tenth of a pound on the scale.  Predictably, I often didn't eat (or drink) enough and my run recovery was compromised on a pretty regular basis.  But no matter, if I just pushed harder, worked harder I could push through and keep posting these mercurial gains time and distance.

So not healthy. 

I didn't really run in December.  And my eating went straight indulgent binge from Thanksgiving until New Years.  I gained back 14 lbs. 

In 6 weeks.

Throw in equal parts clinical depression, household stress, and that whole, "What am I going to be when I grow up?" question that unexpectedly arose from a colossal failure...and well...things weren't pretty.

I wish I knew what pulled me out of my funk.  I'd bottle it and save it for later.

But, things are different now.

First, I've gotten back into running regularly now, and life is always just a little bit better when I'm putting in some miles each week.  I went ahead and set a mileage goal for the year.  Following advice from an excellent e-friend and mentor, Megan, I set a fairly conservative goal.  I'm hoping I blow it out of the water completely, but even if I barely eke it out, I like the feeling of commitment and purpose.  (I'm not going to lie, I also like watching the little updates in RunKeeper as I log my miles. #rungeek)  Having a long term goal like that really fits in with my whole shift in thinking.

I've changed my calorie goals to consistently lose about 2 lbs a week, and making sure I eat enough to cover my exercise expenditures as well.  I no longer weigh myself daily--now I weigh in weekly.  This means I can eat and drink properly to fuel and recover from my runs.  This puts my weight loss goal almost a year away, but frankly I'm good with that.

Race-wise, I don't see how I can possibly be ready for the RnR Dallas Half in March that I've signed myself up for last year.  But I'm going to keep at my training steadily and true--resting when I need to, and pushing myself safely.  If I'm ready, I'll run (or more likely run/walk/run).  If not, I really don't care.

Today I ran 4 miles for Meg Menzies and #megsmiles.  They were a slow 4 miles.  But I realized, "That's ok."  Meg was training for Boston, and I'll likely never be fast enough to qualify, but that's ok.  I didn't know Meg, but she was just like so many of us runners.  Likely she represented the best of most of us.  So today, my miles counted.  They counted for her, her family, and for every runner out there that feels the tremendously tragic loss of her death.

And in that vein, I have a new blog, with a new title and web address.

Clydesdale Runner.

Because that's who I am.  I am big.  And I am slow.

But I am a runner.

And for the first time in a very long time, I'm content to be who I am.

It's a new day.

Simplicity

Photo Source

Two days ago I crashed awake at 4:30, shaken to the core by a truly awful and vivid dream.  So much so, I found myself reconsidering my choice of profession here in real life.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to work a job that didn't come with quite so high stakes.  A job where a simple mistake could quite realistically result in someone losing their life can wear heavily at times.

This uncertainty 2 days before I have an interview (today!!) for a graduate school program that will cost a significant amount of money, will consume a significant amount of my life, and will require significant sacrifice from those in my life.  It takes me much further down the path I am currently on, and the responsibility for others' lives will only be greater.  However, the result of successfully completing the program could be life altering for my family and me.

Faced with the enormity of it all, I knew that I wouldn't fall back to sleep.

I also knew that I would likely sit there and wallow in the stark negativity of my dream.

So I got up, got dressed and headed to the gym for a run.

By all accounts it wasn't a particularly enjoyable run.  I had a stitch in my side the whole way, regardless of how much I focused on form and breathing.  I couldn't easily find my headphones without waking anyone up before I left, so I was music-less.  There was a loud talker/laugher chattering away a few rows behind me during my entire run, with just the perfect grating edge in her too loud voice.  It took my legs a while to loosen up, and my muscles were not fans of having no breakfast before being required to perform.

Still.

That terrible run, was so, so much better than the alternative.

I crave the simplicity and clarity that running brings.  Life is as simple as the next mile, the next interval, the next step.  I covet the perspective a workout grants.  It was 3 miles of chances to evaluate myself, 30 minutes of time to recenter myself.  It was a welcome pause before I had to deal with whatever life was thrusting upon me.

It was an escape.

My day didn't get much better--in fact it only got worse.  A truly bad day regardless of the timing or impending potentially life altering events.

Clearly running is not a cure all.

But in the moment, mid-stride, I am free.

And things are so very simple.

Cleaning House

It's been no secret to those who read here that lately I've had a hard time plugging into the running blog community. It's something I hadn't experienced before when I had a blog about nursing. In fact, my experience has gotten worse and worse, until this morning when it all culminated in me blurting out in a comment that all this feels a lot like junior high all over again. And junior high was an awful time for me.

Within the space of making that comment it dawned on me that it doesn't have to be that way. It's a realization that could have been life-changing back in junior high.

So I came back to my own blog and edited my reading list. Several blogs that pretty much made me feel awful about running, myself, and the running blog community in general are now gone. Despite the fact they are immensely popular and apparently have a large, loyal following, in my opinion they just don't offer their readership much of anything of substance in the department of community.  And I usually left their sites feeling worse about myself than before I clicked in.

The best part of the whole thing is I'll quite likely never run into them around the blogger community because I haven't seen many of them take the time to interact with anyone outside of their own blogs.

It sounds so simple. And really it is.

Deceptively so.

But what I will tell you is that while trying to get noticed by the uber-popular queens of run-blogging, I've quietly run across some pretty amazing people.

For example, Katie from Jam Yesterday has been tremendously supportive. I really enjoy her blog because she is such a sweetly humble person that's genuinely wide-eyed with delight as she shatters goal after fitness goal that she's set for herself.

Or Megan at The Lyons' Share Wellness who keeps an insane schedule but still takes joy in--and makes time for--helping others reach their healthy potential while quietly and steadily practicing just what she preaches.

How about Jill from Run With Jill? If there's anyone out there entitled to an elitist air, it would be this amazing athlete. She may actually be some sort of intergalactic alien judging by her exploits as an athlete, but I have yet to meet anyone more down to earth. She is an absolute inspiration as an athlete and as a person.

If you're looking for blogs of substance written by genuine people, you can't go wrong with these, and many others from my reading list there in the sidebar.

If you're looking for a more trendy, superficial experience, you won't find their links here any longer.

Positive and Negative

I've been avoiding writing for the last few days because I didn't really have much to say that didn't have a negative cast to it.  Maybe a short post with both positive and negative will help push me past.

Negative:

(Skip down to positive if you'd like to avoid my negativity.)

It's been hard for me to read some running blogs and see how cavalier some people are about their running.  They laugh off missed workouts, mention just in passing their runs like they're no big deal, and describe their spur-of-the-moment runs with whoever happens to come calling that day.  All at paces that I can merely dream of at this point.  I know runners aren't supposed to compare themselves with other runners--that the only person we're in competition with is ourselves. I'm pretty sure I'm not upset about their distances or pace--those will come with time, effort, and patience. I'm not scared of the hard work. I guess what needles me is their attitude.

But I just work so hard.

I push, and push to the very edge of what I can do right now, to the brink of injury.  I plan my workouts out, put them into our combined calendar weeks in advance.  I run at 5 am to beat the heat.  I run at 8:30 at night after the kids are in bed instead of spending time with my wife.  I run after 12 hour shifts at work--I run on my days off.  I run instead of taking naps. I know there are many of you out there who do the same and I love and respect your efforts.

In reward for my hard work, I improve every time I run.

Something that I am tremendously grateful for.

But it's like they're laughing in the face of my hard work and dedication when I read about some runners doubling, even tripling my runs at paces 4, or even 5 minutes per mile faster, and giggling about it just being an easy/recovery run or saying, "I ran this so much faster than I meant to."

Oops.

I just wish people were more respectful(?), appreciative(?), reverent(?) of their ability...

I don't even really know what I wish people were like.

I just know it's frustrating me lately.

Positive:

So today I picked up my race packet for my 5k on Saturday.  The packet pickup happened to be at my gym.  As I passed by the table on my way to the treadmills, the girl manning the packet table asked me if I was there to pick up.  Maybe, just maybe, I resemble a runner?  It was fun to grab my stuff, and to hear her tell me to have a good workout.  Maybe, just maybe, I resemble someone who works out?

Anyway, I'm getting excited.  I'm worrying a bit about getting there on time as my wife works the night before (we're both nurses, but she works nights).  Although she's leaving work early for me just to get home to stay with the kids while I go run my race, I'm worried it won't be early enough.  I will likely get to the race site about 20-25 minutes before the 5k start time.  Maybe it will be better that way since I'll have that much less time to be overwhelmed and nervous like I usually am in new situations with lots of people and apparent disorganization and chaos.  I plan to be dressed, pottied, stretched, fed, hydrated, freaked out, by the time my wife gets home so that I can bolt out the door.

Am I maybe obsessing
if I've checked the forecast for Saturday morning every morning and night for the last week?

Today I ran an interval workout that I've been successful with previously (1/4 mile intervals at 11:20 pace and 9:40 pace for 3 miles) to end on a high note for my last workout before the race.  It was a good workout.  I felt like I was attacking the faster intervals and the last couple I started early, ended late, and pushed the pace.  (See, even now I keep thinking about my successful workout and realizing it's somebody else's warm up or cool down. Bad negative thoughts!  Bad!  Sit!  Stay!)

I'll take the day off tomorrow and hydrate.  I hope that leads to a successful race.  Kind of just trying to feel my way through prepping for for race day--I'm bound to make a mistake, but I guess I'll just chalk it up to a learning experience.

Oh, and I'm down 35 lbs now (well, 34.8) in almost exactly 2 months.  Hoping to hit 240 lbs on the nose by next Thursday in time for my CRNA school interview.  Going to require no hiccups in my diet for the next 7 days, and consistent workouts, but I think I'll nail it.

People Watching, Milestone & 5k Taper

This morning I extended my distance for my long run from 4 miles to 5 miles.  I ran for an hour (12:00 pace) on the treadmill at the gym. 

It was an exercise in self control because I kept having the urge to turn the pace up.  But since I was going further than ever, I resisted to ensure that I'd still be in it at the end.  Likely I would have been just fine with some mild increases in pace to keep things interesting, and probably would have shaved a few minutes off my overall time.

It's interesting to me to people watch while I'm on the treadmill--I like to keep tabs on those around me.  Don't get me wrong, I will definitely whip out the stinkeye if someone boards the treadmill directly next to me when there's many other open options (drives me nuts!), but I do find it interesting to observe other people. 

It's like a little micro-community that forms, then dissolves, then reforms as time passes by.  Being on the treadmill for much longer than 30 minutes grants a perfect view of this.  It can be rather interesting because when you pass by, it can be impressive to see the guy that's pounding along at hefty pace decked out in all his workout gear. 

I've been intimidated by that guy several times in the past. 

But when you start spending time on the treadmill you discover "superman" only does a mile and done.  I'm not faulting anyone for the distance they put in, but rather I find him a lot less intimidating knowing that long after he's stepped off I'll still be running.

In fact it gives me a pretty good boost (and a small sense of pride) when I'm running, and somebody shows up, puts in their workout and finishes, leaving me still running.

People are funny. 

Like this morning, there was a woman on a treadmill in front of me and to the left a bit.  She just really didn't want to be there.  She started her treadmill, then stopped about 30 seconds later to fiddle with her headphones.  Restarted, only to stop to meticulously arrange her towel to cover the display.  Restart, then stop to adjust her shoes.  Restart, towel falls off.  Restart, headphones again.  Restart, then bathroom/water break.  I wonder if she's under the impression that she's putting in a workout?

I wonder what people see when they look at me? 

I wonder if I look as fat and awkward as I feel sometimes.  I hope that I'm earning at least a little bit of "street cred" when they see someone my size putting in the work to get it done.  Likely I'm far less conspicuous than I feel. 

Either way, I'm not stopping.

So this taper week.  Is there such a thing as a taper for a "just want to finish" 5k?

My plan is to take tomorrow off (because I work).  Then some sort of average workout on Monday--maybe a moderately paced 2.5 miles?  Then I work again Tuesday and Wednesday so I'll take those days off too, though I would normally put in at least one late night run.  Thursday I have an intervals workout planned--likely I'll do a repeat of yesterday's run alternating 1/4 mile intervals.  Then a rest day on Friday (maybe a short, light, easy run??)  Then race day on Saturday!!

Does that sound like an appropriate taper?  Please someone more experienced leave me a comment...

Getting a bit nervous.

Today was a good day to run...

Turns out today was a good day to run.

I was worried.

Last night I went to bed with a tweaked knee.

That's what will happen when you have to move a 396.7 lb patient that refuses to even attempt to assist, all by your lonesome.  How does something like that happen?  Well, aside from the lack of impulse control and personal responsibility that allows somebody to become 400 lbs in the first place (and subsequently experience all the health conditions that come along with being morbidly obese), when your unit is 2 complete nurses below proper staffing levels, there just isn't anyone to help.  Add one part unfair impatience and over demanding ignorance on the part of the patient and family, and yours truly is set up for an injury.

So yes, I did single handedly move 400 lbs of dead weight.  (I don't have superhero strength, I'm just a nurse.)  And I sure did limp out of the room with a tweaked knee.

Two months ago I would have chalked it up to a normal day at work and gone on without complaint.  But yesterday, I ended up limping directly to the break room to compose myself.

You see, there was this despair that welled up inside me.  What if it was a permanent injury?  What would happen to all the progress that I've made?  Would my new found love for running simply go to the wayside? 

And then came the anger.  Anger at administration that continually puts patient safety, my safety, my license and livelihood on the line, day after day.  I mean, if something untoward happened, I'd be hung out dry; left holding the bag while the hospital churned on, business as usual.  How unfair.

Then, most concerning, came the contempt.  Contempt for the patient in the bed that allowed himself to get in that condition.  For demanding so much of others when he's obviously unwilling to hold himself to the same standard.

But as a nurse, I am not afforded the luxury of being judgmental.  I am good at what I do because I remain impartial--a champion for the needs of the patient.  I am to be the patient's biggest (and often only) advocate in navigating the frightful healthcare system we have in this country.

So yeah.  Not a red letter day for me.

(Wow, sorry.  Didn't expect for all that to come boiling over.)

This morning I woke up gratefully and thankfully pain and tweak free.

I had planned an interval workout for today, and since by 9 am it was already 90* out, I opted for the treadmill.  Actually intervals on the treadmill make a lot of sense for me since it offers complete control over pace, distance, and time.

I ended up running 1/4 mile @11:30 pace, then 1/4 mile @9:40 pace, alternating back and forth (as intervals are apt to do) for 3 miles.  Then, as I was ending on a fast interval, I just continued on to complete the 5k since that's the distance on my mind these days.  So I ended up 3.11 miles in 32:41--a perfectly snappy time for me.

At the end I felt spent, but not obliterated.  And, of course, basking in that immediate post-run glow.  All the despair, anger, and contempt from yesterday was left splattered in sweaty drops on the treadmill, and wiped away with a handi-wipe.

Today was a good day to run.

Morning Postmeal

Morning post...morning oatmeal...morning postmeal--see what I did there?

This is a ridiculous post for sure, but I just have to share my morning "aha" moment.

I eat this Quaker Fruit & Cream oatmeal nearly every morning.  I know there's probably much better breakfast options, even much better oatmeal options, but these are 130 calories a packet and super portable for when I'm at work.  In fact I have a box sitting in my work locker, and I make it with hot water from the coffee machines.  (Sometimes I even get to eat it before lunch time...)

But that's not the point.

The package comes with strawberries & cream, blueberries & cream, bananas & cream, and peaches & cream.  Of the 4 flavors, my least favorite is the peaches & cream.  Not that I have anything against peaches, but of all of them in the box, peaches are the least sexy, most ordinary flavor.

I like to play a little game with myself in the morning, and reach into the box blindly, to see what flavor I get.  It's fun to me, because like the mystical iPod Shuffle always picking a pertinent song, it seems that I end up with a flavor that suits my day.  You know, like a gastronomical horoscope.  A breakfast fortune cookie.

I equate bananas & cream to having a crazy day--as is apt to happen on an ICU from time to time.  I associate strawberries & cream with the strawberry patches from when I was child, so these days tend to be nostalgic.  Blueberries & cream tend to point to an all around excellent day.  Peaches & cream, well, just an ordinary day. 

See what I mean?  Being told you're going to have a peaches & cream day is a little bit of a disappointment.

And it seems like I pull peaches & cream so much more often than the other flavors.  Disproportionately so.

As I thought about this, I ruminated on what implications that concept bears on my life, my goals, my aspirations.  Why did I feel like, more often than not, I was living a peaches & cream life?  I pondered the thought of how to create more blueberries & cream days; how to enjoy the strawberries & cream days, and just roll with the bananas & cream days.

And then I noticed something on the box.  Turns out in every box there's 2 bananas & cream packets, 2 strawberries & cream packets, 2 blueberries & cream packets, and 4 peaches & cream packets.

Maybe my life isn't as ordinary as I was lamenting.

And...sometimes I make my own head hurt.

Regardless, eat your oatmeal!
 
As Wilford Brimley says, "It's the right thing to do."

Lonely

It seems that running can be a very solitary and lonely activity.

Sometimes that's a good thing.

Sometimes it gets a little, well...lonely.

Sometimes writing about running gets lonely too.

As I was finishing nursing school and beginning my nursing career I blogged about my progress. And apparently a male's voice was just what the nurse bloggers world needed. Maybe it was because I didn't dignify the murse stereotypes. Maybe some of my experiences were actually as significant as they felt. Maybe my writing style appealed to that particular audience. Regardless of the reason, all I did was comment on a few other nursing blogs and the silly thing exploded. When I finally took the blog offline under pressure from hospital administration, it was getting about 10k views a month--all without advertising. I was getting requests from industry magazines for articles, and asked if I'd review items.  Now that isn't huge as far as website traffic goes, but it was a cozy little corner of the internet.

I'm finding the running blogger community a little more difficult to break into. I don't necessarily want this blog to blow up--it took a lot of time and energy to keep up with. And really, it's not the reason I started writing this blog. It was mostly to document my journey, for myself. But I'd be lying if I said that I didn't hope to make a few friends, become part of a community, maybe write something that a few people enjoyed reading.

Lest I sound ungrateful, there are a few people reading, and commenting. And I appreciate it so much. Thank you! The encouragement and support has been invaluable as I try to push forward in this unfamiliar territory.

You see, the most structured I'd ever gotten with running was following a basic Couch to 5k program that didn't even work that well for me. So all of this is very new to me, and I'm a little afraid I'm going to do something stupid and hurt myself or get in my own way. I was hoping to assimilate into the running blogging community and learn the (or "a") right way to do things.

But so far I've asked one seemingly knowledgeable and popular run blogger, who specializes in supplements and similar products, for advice regarding a protein supplement. I was ignored.

Twice.

My current nutrition dilemma regarding my calories, I've tried asking a pair of popular podcasters, a sports dietician, and a sports medicine medical doctor who all blog or have groups on Facebook.

No response.

I wasn't asking for a full blown nutritional consult. I was just looking for someone with more experience and success than me to reassure me that I wasn't going to blow my weight loss by eating enough calories to run. Is it an inappropriate question? Am I crossing some unknown boundary?

It's not the end of the world. And I'm definitely not quitting running over it, or giving up on losing weight. Because ultimately those are things I'm doing for myself, and those I love.  And I'll likely not stop blogging either.

I guess it makes me kind of sad. Sad to be fumbling around like a dunce trying to figure this out on my own when there seemed to be a thriving blog community out there. I guess I would never dream of ignoring somebody that asked me for help--even if I couldn't help them.

But maybe that's the nurse in me.

What motivates you to blog? Who do you look to to help you figure new things out?

That One Song

Do you have a particular song that just lifts you up and carries you while you're running?

For me, it's this Tiesto remix of an Imogene Heap song.  When I run, I use Pandora.  I pick an electronica station, and just use the pounding beats to drive me forward.  I love that Pandora picks random songs for me keeping things completely fresh.  So when this song comes on, it's totally random and by chance.

When it starts playing it never fails to pick me up.  Doesn't matter where I am in a run, this song just grants me another gear.  I usually end up with goosebumps, and often tears streaming down my face.

With this song playing, I am invincible.


Do you have a song like this?

If you're one of the two people reading this, leave me a comment and let me know what song makes you fly.

Mental Toughness

As in, I don't have any.

I was just settling into my run today, 10 minutes in and contemplating turning up the pace.

Then, disaster.

My towel fell off the treadmill and got sucked up into the belt, wedging itself against the frame.

That shrieking, tortured howling sound you heard at the gym today?

That was me, riding a quickly dying treadmill.

I hopped off and tried to see if it would just tug free, but alas the towel had declared its unending love for the treadmill and refused to be coaxed out.

I went and notified the front desk, and then showed the employee of the year which treadmill.

"Welp, there's your problem...there's a towel stuck in the belt."

Uhh....yep.

By this time I selected another treadmill and tried to resurrect my workout. But when I restarted, I felt awful. I made it another 10 minutes and then bailed.

Maybe it's a step forward--in the past I wouldn't have even gotten back on.

Still, I don't feel good about it.

I'm pretty sure it was all in my mind, something I need to get a handle on if ever I'm to become a true runner.

Embrace Life

Recently I've started following a local emergency services scanner service on Facebook. The owners of the page essentially post real-time updates about all the ongoing emergencies in my local metro area.  The service is so on top of things that by the time things are "breaking news" on regular news channels, it's often hours old news.

It's also been quite startling to witness the sheer volume of major emergencies that occur locally each day.  And it's eye opening how many people lose their lives just in the cities surrounding where I carry on my daily life.  In fact I no longer have any desire to get back on a motorcycle--I used to ride--because there are 5-6 motorcycle accidents a day during the week.  Double that on the weekends, and it just never goes the biker's way.

All this has really caused me to be a tad philosophical lately, and particularly today on the treadmill.  As such, I'd like to share the following with you, if you haven't yet seen it.  It is one of the most brilliant public service commercials I have ever seen.  It originally aired in Great Britain, but a few years ago it went viral here in the States as well.  It's only a minute and a half long, but it is immensely powerful.

I read so many of your blogs and I see you talk about your beautiful families and vibrant lives.  Please be safe out there in this big bad world.

And give those you hug some love.

Shift: Self

But for a stark realization, today's post would have begun, "I didn't feel very good when I started running today...".

In fact, as I climbed the last of the stairs at the gym, I found myself slipping into my old fearful mindset.  You see, today I was to increase my running time from 17 minutes to 19 minutes, and as I stepped onto the cardio floor to head to a treadmill, my mind thought about that two whole extra minutes.  And I thought about how tired I was at 17 minutes on my last run, and how grateful I was to stop.  Out of fear, I was already giving myself permission to give up when 17 minutes ticked by on the treadmill.

It was then that it truly hit me.

It really is a mindset.

And my mindset was setting me up to fail, simply by giving myself an "out" when things started to get uncomfortable.  I had already decided that I wasn't going to be able to stretch myself, or move forward.

And in that crystal moment of clarity a small seed of reckless joy germinated somewhere deep within me.

It's a tender shoot, and I'll have to guard it carefully.  Negativity, especially fueled by the force of habit, is a powerfully destructive thing.

I don't think I've uncovered the cheat code to the mystery of life here.  In truth, most of you experienced runners are likely thinking, "Well...duh?"

But for me it represents a paradigm shift in my thinking.  A whole new world awaits.

My run today?

Well, my split for today was supposed to be 19 minutes.

I ran 25.

And I could have, would have, should have kept running.

What an amazing feeling.

The Starting Line

I ran before.  But then I stopped.

Now I run again.

Early spring when I was in the 7th grade, the announcements (read over the intercom like all things of import were back then) stated that Junior High track season would soon start.  It took some courage, but I managed to ask my parents if I might "go out" for track.

It was a loaded question, because it meant that I would be staying after school every day of the week.  And instead of riding the bus home, it meant that I had to be picked up by car.  Perhaps a trivial thing to many, but living on a farm well outside of city limits meant that somebody would have to leave home around 5 and drive the 20-30 minutes to get me, and then the 20-30 minutes home. Before the time change this would interfere with dinner preparation.  And worse, after the time change it was sacrificing precious daylight hours that could be spent in the fields or garden.

My parents were tremendously supportive, often telling me I could accomplish anything I set my mind to.  Anything that is, that didn't inconvenience them or cost too much money.

Still, they said yes.

And so I became a member of the track team.  I was practically built for the part.  Scrawny, yet leggy, like a young fruit tree, springing in the wind.  At that point in my life I was apparently powered by a nuclear reactor, or other some such nearly perpetual energy source.  (And my feet smelled like toxic chemicals to hear my mother tell it.)  I ran middle distance, 800m, often as a leg of the 400m relay, and occasionally the 1600m.  And I long-jumped.

I could have been really good.  I could have been state tournament good, I'm sure of it.

But I ran scared.

And so, 10th grade rolled around and I decided that tennis was much more my style.  Yet even on the tennis court, running stayed with me.  I was, without fail, in the lead on our team fitness runs.  I developed a reputation for doggedly running down any ball.  From drop shots to lobs, I prided myself in always at least putting a racket on the ball.

I could have been really good.  I could have been state tournament good, I'm sure of it.

But I played scared.

In fact, I remember once a week at practice we had ladder matches to determine the seeding for any tournaments the coming weekend.  Top 6 seeds were considered varsity, and 7-12 were considered JV.  For the ladder challenges, either a lower seeded player could challenge a higher seeded player, or the coach would assign matches.  One week it turned out that after all the "by choice" challenges had been paired, the only remaining match-up was myself, #13 and the #2 ranked player.  It was an improbable match-up.  I was completely relaxed because nobody expected me to win.

Not even myself.

But I got into a rhythm.  And started landing huge serves.  And not only was I winning, I was steamrolling my opponent.  I won the first two sets 6-0.  My opponent had no answer for me.  I was up 4-0 in the third set; two games away from clinching the biggest upset the team had seen in years. And as we changed sides, he stopped me.

He was crying.

He pleaded with me, telling me his dad was going to punish him if I beat him.

And I caved.  I succumbed to my doubt, lack of confidence, and my fear.  I mean, what if I won?

He celebrated his comeback victory heartily with the rest of the varsity players, with high fives and great bellows of "Come ON!!"  I quietly went back to the JV courts.  The coach gave me a long, searching look when I reported the score of our match, but he said nothing.  Two weeks later he asked me to forfeit a match in an interscholastic tournament to advance one of our varsity players.

I did as he asked.  And then I never went back to practice.

The years slipped by.  As college, marriage, a child, divorce, remarriage, more children, jobs, money, stress, bills packed on the pounds I was soon no longer a leggy, young fruit tree.  I started running on a treadmill at the gym to lose weight.  And lose weight I did--65 lbs.  But it wasn't until the very end that I began to enjoy running.

And then I quit.

I gained back the weight--every miserable pound of it--for reasons that I'll not be discussing here.

I ran before.  But then I stopped.

Now I run again, and I long to run without fear.