Learning to Run

Confession: I despise running… in all forms. Where are you going? If you’re on a treadmill, the answer is nowhere. If you’re on a trail, what’s the rush? And on concrete? Meant for things with wheels or walking… your body, I believe, is not meant to take brutal weight shifts on an unyielding surface.

I ran track for two years. I ran the 400, the 4X400, the 200 hurdles, and occasionally the half. If you look at how my body has developed through the years, you’d see that I am a hybrid endomorph/mesomorph structure. That red bunchy muscle was built for speed, not endurance. My Hubby was blessed with the perfect mesomorph form. Running is a way of life for him, every spring taking to the parks or the trails to shed the winter weight, his lifelong pledge to fitness evident in his daily workouts.

After suffering from recurring knee injuries acquired through overuse and poor form in my dance training, most all high-impact activities were ruled out for me. Losing and maintaining weight loss became an uphill battle. Most of my research on the web led me to realize that both the knee injury and the weight gain played into each other. The more weight I put on, the more my knee had to carry. Of course, there are plenty of cardio solutions that don’t involve hitting the road – biking and elliptical are among my favorites. I dance twice a week, and on occasion I’ll drop in for a step, cardio kickboxing, or Zumba class. But aerobic classes are high-impact, so I have to take care when participating by listening to my body and making low-impact modifications.

My opposition to running changed when I met my sometimes-trainer, Dee. Part of the fitness module included bursts of cardio: jumping rope, step-ups, up-downs, high steps and of course, running in place. This seemed inane: running nowhere for 45 seconds.

“I’m not a runner, you know,” I said to Dee. He laughed and looked at his watch.

“You will be when I’m done with you,” he replied. “I want to see some sweat.”

Dee shared with me his own running story: he used to run a 5K everyday as a Marine.  Now 2 years out, he still runs everyday.

So when I walked into the gym to find my usual elliptical occupied, I thought I’d hit the treadmill to walk and get the blood flowing. The urge to push the pace nagged me. I stepped briskly with the belt and I arrowed the speed upward. 5.8, 6.0, 6.2 and my legs moved below me. The treadmill was equipped with a red dot indicating my position on a fictitious track . I watched as my dot-self progressed around the loop, resetting when I arrived at the next lap. I pressed on. And before I knew it, I was 1 mile in.

Some days later, I reattempted the mile, pushed on and added another half. My legs didn’t mind the numbing thump on the belt and my knees responded gratefully to the change. I decided it was time to take the show on the road. I could comfortably run at a 6.2 mile pace on the treadmill, how different could it be on pavement? The answer: incredibly different. The resistance and action of pushing yourself off the ground versus the forward momentum and backward movement on the treadmill requires additional stamina and coordination.

Hubby and I took to the lake, 3.7 miles of flat paved paths. I set the pace and began strong. A half mile in, I began to feel the imbalance in my stride – my right leg and calf stiffened. I knew I couldn’t push on too much longer without risking compensation injury and I opted to turn around and push the .75 miles back to the car while Hubby worked through his shin splints on the remainder of the trail.

The fresh air gives me so much more freedom to be unencumbered by headphones and television and the monotony of a stationary cardio workout. In two days, I’ll reattempt the run alone, hoping to push past my previous breaking point and cover additional ground. It won’t happen over night, and I may never be able to run all 3.7 miles, but it’s another goal for me to work toward in my quest for fitness.