I have always hated running. It is an activity that has truly become the bane of my existence. I’m not good at it. It hurts. My progression in both speed and endurance has been painfully slow – literally. I have to give myself a really good internal “pep talk” every time I put on my running shoes. It’s just one of those activities that, even though I’ve been doing it regularly for over a year, I could never get myself “up” for.

About 15 minutes into any given run (I typically only run for 30 minutes at a time), a pressure builds inside my chest. It’s a burning sensation that really hurts like hell. A sort of nasty film, or paste, begins to form in the back of my throat to make breathing a little more difficult. The sweat, which has already been dripping for some time now, begins to turn cold on the skin, producing a goosebumps type of sensation all over. I no longer feel my legs at this point, which is fine because I don’t really have control over them anymore, anyway. They’re just down there doing their own thing to a rhythm that I set for them about 10 minutes prior. I have reached, by this time, that place that most runners love. It’s a place where, if you can disconnect from the physical discomforts, the mental state is truly glorious. The body starts to move on autopilot and the mind is free to escape into that profound silence that’s actually heightened, instead of interrupted, by the rhythm of stride and breathing. There is a temporal kind of joy that I get from that separation of spirit and body during a run. I truly do enjoy that part of it, but the problem for me is that it is always transient. It never stays. I always return to a conscious awareness of the pain and broken breathing. At that point, it is only sheer will and a defiance of the possibility of failure that keeps my short little legs moving. I don’t yet know why I can’t progress beyond this. I have spent a lot of energy and frustration trying to figure out why I can’t “do it right.”

Breathing is, of course, the key thing in running. I’ve tried a lot of breathing patterns and have had the most success using a commonplace “2 in, 2 out” method. Though I can gut it out for my ½ hour using a 2 in, 2 out pattern, it’s still not a pleasant experience…at all. I’ve been given a lot of advice for improvement strategies. The short sprint/jog theory and the walk/run theory have been shoved whole-heartedly at me by many of my well-meaning friends and fellow runners. I’ve tried them all…and none of it ever seemed to work or even help. So…I reached a really pathetic self-pity phase after trying some of this stuff and I recently actually quit running for a couple of months.

Here’s the thing, though. I love the way I feel after a run. I work out in a lot of different ways. I do a little free weight work. I use heavy cardio tapes from TheFIRM series. I use hybrid workouts that combine cardio and weights together. I have resistance-only days that consist of stretching, abdominal work, and yoga-esque/non-weighted body resistance exercises. I do all of these because they are beneficial…and because some of it is downright fun. None of it does what running can do, though. I love that red-faced, cold sweat feeling that I have after working out, but there is something special about the way I feel after running. It’s totally different…and I missed it when I stopped doing it.

For about 3-5 hours after a run, I feel invincible. There is a special jar of endorphins that only gets opened up from running. I mean, sure, you get adrenaline and endorphins from lots of different things, but the stuff in that running jar is a special brand. It’s like the difference between James Taylor and Metallica. If you go to the gym and workout hard…you get to feel like a James Taylor song for about 2 hours. It’s nice and ethereal and light. You walk on clouds for a while…and it’s really good stuff. I like the way that feels, and I certainly don’t mean to belittle it. When you run, though…boy, that bass line cranks up, someone starts banging on some drums somewhere, and you feel like you could’ve knocked down The Walls of Jericho with your bare hands. It’s an entirely different kind of high…and I’m in. I’m hooked.

I’m trying, really hard, to love to run. I want so much to enjoy it for its own sake and not just for the way I feel when it’s over. There is nothing I’ve ever done that has contributed more to my successes in weight loss, skin health, and attitude adjustment. I look fantastic compared to where I was two years ago, and it’s largely due to running. The weight work has a lot to do with it, as well, but the major fat loss didn’t come until I started to pound the pavement.

I just have to keep reminding myself that sometimes, the end result is worth the pain you had to go through to get it. Sometimes, it takes longer to get to “good” than we thought it would. Sometimes, we have to see that just because our effort wasn’t a marathon doesn’t mean that it wasn’t worthwhile. And…sometimes, we just have to get out there and work harder than other people do in order to get the same benefit. Because you know what? Life isn’t fair…but screw it. You can have it if you want it…you just have to want it real bad in certain cases. Ha ha ha. For me, running will always be a challenge. I know it will. I’m not a “natural.” I’ve not been given “the gift.” Hee hee. But I do have legs and I do have the benefit of youth to push me forward. So…I’ll keep on doing it. I’ll keep on bitching about it. And maybe one day, I’ll find that I’ve learned to love it.

From the Pen of Aspen Lowood
November 24, 2000
3:18pm, MST









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