My New Mantra

"Bid me run,

and I will strive

with things impossible..."

Shakespeare, Julius Caesar 

Like a Pug

I made it outside for a run today, and I've still got it!

By "it" I do not mean speed, or endurance, or any other markers of athleticism.  I was slow, I had to walk about a fourth of each mile, my easy pace kept me in a Zone 2 to 3, and I felt the need to pee pretty much the whole time.  No, "it" is something else entirely.

Almost a year ago, I rambled on about whether or not I could consider myself a "real" Runner.  Is a 10- or 11-minute-mile really running, or just jogging?  The famous Dr. George Sheehan (Never heard of him?  Then you're just a jogger.) once said that the difference is a signature on a race application.  But was he right?  Am I really a runner because I've participated in a few races?

I've decided that the difference is a little more subjective than that; I believe "real" Runners are the ones that get out there and do what they do for the enjoyment of it.  Not to lose weight, not to look fab at the reunion, not for any specific benefit or goal that may or may not be attained.  And certainly not that every run is pleasurable, because all real Runners know that some runs are absolutely miserable and most are pretty humdrum.  Maybe we can't even define what it is we actually like about running.  Much like a cherished dog who is so ugly he's cute, we love it "just because" and need no further reason why.

No cute, just pugly.

That love, I've decided, is what makes me a Runner.  That is the "it" I still have.

What Child Is This?

Ho, ho, ho!  Merry Christmas!

My last post was about a gazillion weeks ago and so much has gone on since then.  I've had several busy weeks of working, sleeping, and gestating.  Not much running going on, but I've been back on the treadmill somewhat regularly since last week.  Running outside where it is potentially slippery doesn't seem like the best idea given my "delicate" condition, but I can tell running indoors is going to slowly make me crazy, especially when I have no more "Run, Run, Live" podcasts to listen to weekly (they are going to a new format with that show and will now be monthly).

So, 'tis the day before Christmas and we have so much to celebrate.  Our life here is not always easy or immediately rewarding, but always rich with blessings beyond what we deserve.

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of goodwill.

Courage

I don't remember much about her. All I know is that she was an overweight adult who had decided to join the advanced ballet class with a bunch of teenage girls. I also remember how horrible we were to her. How we whispered and laughed.

She was probably younger than I am now, but at the time she seemed so old. And oh, my God, why do they even make leotards that big?

But now I recognize her courage; the strength to show up, week after week. The love of the ballet drove her to surrender herself, not only to her own physical limitations, but to our taunting as well.

I wish I could go back in time and be nice to her. I also wish I could find her today, and tell her that across twenty-ish years and unknown miles, she has inspired me. Wherever she is, I hope she is still dancing.

Identify Yourself

"Oh, are you a runner?"

"Um... I guess. Yep. I dunno."

For whatever reason the phrase "wannabe" has negative connotations for me. Like when we were in high school and somebody was called a "wannabe" it was never meant in a flattering manner. But it is an apt description for one who aspires to something, but isn't quite there yet.

Guess which one is the Wannabe.

I have now owned four pairs of running shoes (including one pair returned and one pair ordered but not yet received). I have more pairs of exercise pants than jeans. I'm running about 20 miles a week; that's not a lot, but it is enough to prove my commitment, I think. I haven't lost any blackened toenails yet, but I think that's mainly because I figured out early on I need to wear men's socks (they're larger). And I sure know more about my feet than ever before, right down to my Morton's Toe.

And yet, somehow, I just don't quite identify myself as a Runner. Not publicly, at least. I feel like I haven't earned it.

What will that take?

I'm going nuts without any races on my calendar. One day I'm ready to register for a marathon, the next day I think I must be crazy to even consider it. The Route 66 Marathon in Tulsa, OK gives special finisher's medals for first-timers. (And an extra trinket for visiting The Center of the Universe. I've been there!) But, ugh, I'd have to GET THERE first. And then actually finish.

Cuh-RAZY.

So, for now, I'm happy with calling myself a "wannabe" instead of a runner. I expect that to change, though.