Archive for December 20th, 2007

When I started running (or rather, jog/walking), I remember vividly how far a mile felt…interminable. It was a unit of distance best enjoyed from inside the comfort of a car, a measurement invented for hating, not to be taken lightly.

By the time the run/walk program progressed to the final week and I was managing 3 miles without stopping, everything had changed. I no longer feared the word “mile” – it was a symbol of progress, proof that I was getting stronger and healthier. And as it grew to 4, 5, then 6 miles, I couldn’t remember why I was scared of adding distance, my body was accepting of the progression and I just wanted to go farther, longer.

Then 7 miles came, and oh my, what a little drama that was. I’ll expand on it at another time, suffice it to say I learned what dehydration can do to a gal and how it can turn a lovely run into a nightmare. One thing’s sure; it gave me more respect for the future miles I would continue to add on.

Next up was 8.5, significant because it’s the “museum loop” which I had cycled before (and found endless), so to cover this landmark distance in running shoes would be hugely symbolic. And it was. I cried as I crossed Falls Bridge that first time, the river was so beautiful from up there and I was accomplishing something I’d never planned for or expected. Well…I’m such a crybaby, anyway.

The day after I hit 10 miles, I became officially unfazed by distance. Sure, I continue to feel proud and excited when adding miles, but my handy compartmentalizing mind says that any run below 20 is just 10 with a few more miles tacked on, which makes it all seem so achievable. And with marathon training in view for 2008 (a humbling thought, for sure) I’m happy to report that my longest runs to date, an 18 and 19, were both positive experiences for me.

So what is a mile now? It’s “the third lamppost after the turn” or “just before the big tree” or “midway at the short cement wall”.  I notice when I go out, instead of thinking 12, I think 6 with a turnaround to go home.

Of course, all of this big tough talk doesn’t explain the other day when I left a message on a friend’s answering machine saying, “I’m going out for a run now, but I’ll be back in a couple hours.” And it hit me: a couple hours on a cold grey windy day. Suddenly that seemed like a really, really long time to be outside running. In an instant, I was in flashback mode, feeling as unsure of myself as the days when one measly mile seemed forever. Then I remembered that I don’t care about such things (hah!), I gave myself a kick in the ass and into the day I ran.