Running on Empty

Running used to be a big part of my life. As you can see, I'm a card-carrying marathoner. Yep, I didn't get a trophy or a medal or anything for my 4:38 time in the Detroit Free Press International Marathon, but I got this card saying I was a participant in 1981--just five days after my 29th birthday.

I had started running with my dad about ten years earlier, and it seemed like there was a road race within a short drive nearly every weekend. I'll never forget my first 10K. You're familiar, I'm sure, with Nike's slogan, Just do it. Well, my running shoes were not Nikes. Mine were from Sears, so that's probably where I went wrong. Before I just did it, I should have asked someone for advice. But back then, I really didn't know many runners. I lined up at the front and took off like a rocket. Well, probably not exactly like a rocket. But I took off way too fast for someone like me to be taking off in my first race, when inexperience and nerves were huge factors.

Oh, and hills. Did I mention the hills? Always the hills.

Anyway, by the end of my first mile (only 5.2 more to go!) I was walking and gasping and trying not to throw up. I don't think I had been boastful about my running talents, but even so, I was considerably humbled by that race. Thankfully, that was the day I learned that most runners are nice people, and are very happy to share what they've learned from experience. I.e., unless you are a track star, you don't line up at the front of the pack, and you don't start fast. I learned to get comfortable in the last row, where you have to start slow. Once you're warmed up and feeling the rhythm, you just naturally find yourself picking up the pace, squeezing in between slower runners, ending up a little closer to the front.

Once I got the hang of racing, I naturally got obsessed with it. I didn't win a lot of trophies (although there were a couple) but I amassed quite a collection of colorful tee shirts, and made a few friends. My Awesome Husband Greg didn't run regularly back then, but he could always get himself up for a race. We once ran a 5K in Lansing together with Frank Shorter and Bill Rogers!

When we moved to North Carolina in 1982, I found running and racing--and hills--were even more accessible than they had been in Michigan. I tried training for another marathon, but one day, after running about thirteen miles, my legs suddenly locked up and felt as if they were being gripped in a vice. I decided I wasn't having any fun then, and one marathon was probably my limit. There were a lot more 5 and 10Ks, though.

This photo was taken at the Peachtree Road Race in Atlanta in 1984--one of my favorite 10Ks.

I miss running now that I can no longer do it. Sometimes I'll hear them and see them going by my window when I first wake up--the morning runners. I remember how it felt when the endorphins kicked in. I didn't have to be going fast, just steady. No pain. One with the road. All that stuff. On a good day, walking is nice, but it's not running. Breathing is good, though, and I can't do that when I'm running. You have to choose your pleasures. I'm glad I was able to be a runner for most of my life, and I'm very glad that I'm still a breather!