Do Runners REALLY Love Running?

As I'm lying here on my couch in my sweatpants under a blanket surrounded by cats, hot coffee, and books, I don't feel a strong need to go outside...at least until April.

 

When my alarm went off at 6 o'clock this morning, my bed was so warm and cozy. I set my alarm for 6am to allow myself 30 minutes of reading and coffee time before having to get dressed and drive to Roanoke to run with my "friends." (They deserve the quotes. Seriously. These people are relentless.)

However, instead of spending that 30 minutes finishing one of my books and enjoying the morning, I spent it lying in bed thinking through all of the possible excuses (or lies) I could come up with to excuse myself from driving an hour to run up and down the mountains in 14 degree weather. I didn't want to go. Running isn't fun. 

You people who want to run, but don't because you hate it and you think that people that love it are crazy and you could never be that crazy? Here's a secret. Most runners hate it. We hate the act of running. We hate leaving our warm beds at 6am on a January Sunday morning. We hate the pain and exhaustion. We hate the wind and cold and endless climbs. (Don't get me wrong, there are those that love the act of running. They're weirdos. We won't talk about them here. The act of running sucks.)

What we love is the feeling of friendship and camaraderie that comes from suffering along with other runners. We love the feelings of accomplishment and overcoming that come after the run. We love how our muscles remind us of how hard we pushed them for hours (or sometimes days) after a run. We love being able to look at one another and say, "See those mountains? Yep. We just did that."

And if we can do that, imagine what else we can do? Go ahead. Tell us we can't do something. (And then hold our beer. Because we're probably holding a beer. We like beer.)

So, I knew, even as I was frantically trying to come up with the best lie I could use to get out of this run, that I was going to get up and go anyway. Because runners fear shame more than we fear discomfort.

And now I get to lie here the rest of the day reading books and watching basketball and daring someone to call me lazy. 

Choosing Friends With Reckless Abandon

There are those that say you should keep your circle small. That you only need one or two people in your life, truly in your life.

And I think that may be true for many people.

For me, however, I take a more drastic approach to who I allow in my world. Because I have so many worlds. Those worlds demand different people.

My Crazy Adventure People

My Norma & America's Toughest Road Marathon

My Ragnar Trail Ladies

My Spartan Son

My Road Ragnar Family

These are my people that challenge me to do and be more. They inspire me to work hard and achieve the things I desire. They push me as far outside of my comfort zone as I have ever been and then push me more. And they join me there. Because of these people, I have added many adventures to my list of accomplishments: Spartan, Blue Ridge Marathon, Ragnar Road, Ragnar Trail. This year, I will take on even more.

C&C & Mountain Junkies Conquering the Cove

Goal Diggers Showing Up For Adult Field Day

My Thursday Night Water Dog Runners

  They feed an addiction and I need every one of them.

My Selfless Volunteer People

Bedford Humane Society & the Cattyshack
(Photobomber Manny was adopted into an awesome forever home)

Girls on the Run/Heart & Sole
Helping young girls find their power.

These are the people that inspire me to give beyond myself and fight for the things I believe in. They are busy rescuing animals and shaping the lives of children. They are making the world a better place and they let me tag along in the process. They don't make me feel guilty when I step back to regroup. (Because animal rescue will eat up every ounce of faith, hope, and sanity that you have.) They continue fighting the fight and welcome me back with open arms when my heart says it's time to try again.

(BTW, this is where I direct you to the top of the page where you can click on a Girls on the Run page to learn more, volunteer, or even donate...)

My Judgy Nonjudgmental People

Groupies at my rap musical debut

Judging me when I need it most

These are the people that allow me to be questionable and crazy. They call me on my BS, offering judgement about my questionable choices while simultaneously supporting me in an incredibly nonjudgmental way. They give me permission to say the things that one doesn't say in polite company. It's an amazing kind of freedom. And they encourage me to be crazy, creative, and daring. And they are there cheering obnoxiously loud as I do.

THE Family

My Safe Space People 

And these people serve as my safe space. They are my soft place to land when I am exhausted and defeated. They are family, though family doesn't seem like a strong enough word. They each give me a sense of peace and acceptance in their own special way. They are the core of my world. My center. And it is because of them that I feel confident enough to venture out with all of the groups above. I probably take them for granted, trusting that they will always be there when I need them. But that's because they always are. Always.

My parents are always there, sitting in their kitchen offering me food and unconditional love. My kids are there in the chair beside me offering laughter and basketball viewing companionship. And my best friend, my claimed family, is there, just down the road, offering conversation and support and the love of her family.

My Center

So, when I'm feeling like I might be in the midst of an identity crisis, not sure who or what I'm supposed to be, I take a short walk down the road and find myself again on my best friend's couch. Or maybe I take a run over to my parents' house to find myself again in their kitchen.

My Heart

I think, as long as you have those few precious people that will serve as your core, you can go out and choose your friends with reckless abandon. Because they make it safe to take those chances.

And I am endlessly thankful for them.

That Time A WWII Novel Made Me Panic During A Trail Race

Mountain Junkies Frozen Toe 10K Trail Race

First race of 2018

You always know this one is going to suck.

You always sign up anyway. Because...it's Mountain Junkies.

The weather hovered somewhere around 50 below zero. I'm estimating here. That's what it felt like.

I had to sit in my car for 30 minutes after arriving so I could finish my audiobook, Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys, an historical fiction novel about the sinking of a German ship carrying thousands of refugees during World War II. I point this out because it not only explains why I failed to socialize with my friends prior to the race, but also because it will explain my behavior during the race, as well. It will make sense shortly. Trust me. Plus, read it. It's an excellent book. But read Between Shades of Grey first. Again, trust.

Ok. When you start this race, you can't feel the lower half of your body. Or the upper half. Or anything. You can't feel anything, except perhaps the misery of poor life choices. So, for at least the first one and a half to two miles, you're kind of relying on the Force to get you through the technical aspects of the trail.

For those of you saying, "The Force isn't a real thing, Sunshine. It's just some made up thing in Star Wars and Star Wars is a fictional film series," I say...well, yeah, ok. That's clearly true. Because at some point within those first two miles, there is a strong likelihood that you're going to just go down. And you're probably going to go down hard because you've been relying on the Force to get you through and you believed in it so fully that you just went fast as you can all in.

So, I fell. Hands out, superman, sprawling kind of fall. I may have offered up a strangled little howl of desperation. I'm gonna say that was simply my attempt to warn those behind me of whatever treacherous evil had clearly grabbed me and thrown me to the ground.

And this is where the audiobook comes in. Because the last thing I had listened to prior to starting the race was a story about desperate people trampling over one another to try to escape a sinking ship in the middle of the frigid sea, there was a moment where I panicked. Like, legit panicked and thought that if I didn't scramble back to my feet quickly, I would be trampled to death.

In my panicked scrambling attempt to get up, I lost my footing even more and began sliding down the rather steep hill that the trail runs alongside. So, of course, I panicked more.

Amidst all of my panic, there were, in fact, several other runners trying to help me up. Because trail runners are pretty selfless people. They will always help. They will almost never trample. Bless their hearts, they didn't realize that I was living in WWII Germany on a sinking ice-covered ship after being betrayed by the Force and at great risk of drowning if I wasn't trampled to death first. So I was kind of half fighting them off and half grasping for a stable hand.

It all kind of went downhill from there. I mean, I finally got stabilized and finished the race, blah blah blah. But I ruined my favorite pair of running tights, reopened the scab from my fall on the same trail last weekend so that the fresh blood coagulated with the remaining fabric of the tights making removal so excruciating that I briefly considered just living in them forever, and ruptured the tendon in one of my metacarpals (according to my son's full year of high school athletic training diagnosis).

Photo Credit: Jimmy Moore

However, in the end, I was able to celebrate with all of my badass Mountain Junkies and laugh about all of the falls, blood, vomiting, and general misery. We enjoyed the best post-race food with the best people after overcoming the best challenges. Because that's what we love.

Photo Credit: Me. I did this.

Photo Credit: Marion Childress, leader of C&C Runners

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a bag of ice and Pacers basketball.