(note: this blog entry was written April 22, 2008 - it's taken me a week to post it)
It has taken me twenty-eight years to figure out that I am not a good runner. I was sure I was. The color of my roots has been questioned in the past, but who would have thought I was downright delusional. Looking back, there were a few clues…
Like when I was four years old and my best friend Analee and I would race from the giant blue spruce in her front yard to the edge of the driveway. She won every time! I couldn’t understand it. I’d will myself with all my might, pump my stubby little legs as fast as I could, and when I’d finally reach the cement, she was already there! Analee was kind enough to let me in on her little secret…it was all in the Wonder bread. Ah-ha! Dad didn’t buy Wonder bread. So we’d sit at her table and shove wadded up slices of the pasty bread into our mouths. But when we’d resume our races, she still won…every time. Maybe I wasn’t eating enough of it, I thought. Despite my begging and pleading though, Dad still wouldn’t buy it – Mom had already converted the family to that whole wheat bread stuff.
Later in the third grade, after running around with my brothers and sisters on their paper routes and allowing some of Analee’s atheletecism wear off on me, I figured my time had come. It was at the end of the year and we were having try-outs for Track Day. Mrs. Vierstra’s class all lined up in the fields in the afternoon and at on-your-marks-get-set-go we all took off sprinting. I was in the front!...for three seconds, and the Johanna Herrett took off in front of me. I was positive it had been a fluke and insisted a rematch. Johanna NEVER played base soccer with us or ran around with the boys like we did. I was supposed to win. So once again we lined up and took off. She did it again! Embarrassingly enough, I think I demanded a rerun three or four times, and the teacher actually aquieced. You’d think after that many losses I would have figured it out as a nine-year old.
However, come junior high and not making the volleyball team, I figured running track sounded like a good idea. The track team didn’t turn anyone away, and Analee was going to do it. Day after day I ran circles, I jumped up and down, and tried to look like I knew what I was doing. The track coach assigned me to run the 800 meter. My dear older brothers gave me pointers, showed me form, and even came to my first track meet. The image of Evan and Gene strutting across the field as I came around the first bend of the track on my first meet is forever ingrained on my memory. My heart took courage and my now not-as-stubby legs sped up a little more. I still came in long after the first five finishers scored their points. Yet, during one of our final meets in Burley, as I came around the last bend of the last lap, it was that same image that spurred me to run a little faster than I had. It wasn’t until I was almost to the finish line I realized all my teammates were cheering my name and I came in 5th scoring one point! My claim to fame is that at that track meet, we only won by one point. And I thought I was a great runner.
During my third year of college at BYU, a few friends who were avid runners decided to run the Provo River Trail half-marathon. I thought it sounded like fun, but after going on a few runs with them, I decided I didn’t enjoy it. So the morning of the race, I lied comfortably in my bed with the sun beginning to stream through my window, and listed to them whoop and holler as they headed out to the race. In the safety of my bed, that morning, a strange thing happened. I regretted not running and decided that one day, I would run a half-marathon.
Which brings me to today – sweaty, winded, and sore – just five days from running the Country Music Marathon in Nashville, TN that I signed up for just four months ago. It seemed like plenty of time to train. How hard could it be, after all?
Oklahoma seems like an extremely FLAT area, until I start running. Would you believe this place is so dang hilly I can barely catch my breath after one hill before I come to another? Just last week, I finally ran the Mile-From-Hell (as my friend Cara and I have affectionately dubbed the section of the turnpike trail closest to my house) straight through without stopping. Who cares about finishing a half-marathon after accomplishing that?! Okay, I do care about finishing the half-marathon. Yet today, I finally realized I am not a good runner. Can I mesh the two epiphanies? Heck, the pioneers walked 13 miles a day, and I don’t even have a handcart! And while I feel like I’m honestly only at a 5K level currently, if I can run in the Oklahoma wind, I can run in anything! The past few runs into the April wind have been strangely reminiscent of those nightmares you have when someone is chasing you and you can’t get away. Only in Oklahoma can you spit in front of yourself and have it land five feet behind you (if not in your face). So it sounds like I’m set! See y’all at the finish line!
Like when I was four years old and my best friend Analee and I would race from the giant blue spruce in her front yard to the edge of the driveway. She won every time! I couldn’t understand it. I’d will myself with all my might, pump my stubby little legs as fast as I could, and when I’d finally reach the cement, she was already there! Analee was kind enough to let me in on her little secret…it was all in the Wonder bread. Ah-ha! Dad didn’t buy Wonder bread. So we’d sit at her table and shove wadded up slices of the pasty bread into our mouths. But when we’d resume our races, she still won…every time. Maybe I wasn’t eating enough of it, I thought. Despite my begging and pleading though, Dad still wouldn’t buy it – Mom had already converted the family to that whole wheat bread stuff.
Later in the third grade, after running around with my brothers and sisters on their paper routes and allowing some of Analee’s atheletecism wear off on me, I figured my time had come. It was at the end of the year and we were having try-outs for Track Day. Mrs. Vierstra’s class all lined up in the fields in the afternoon and at on-your-marks-get-set-go we all took off sprinting. I was in the front!...for three seconds, and the Johanna Herrett took off in front of me. I was positive it had been a fluke and insisted a rematch. Johanna NEVER played base soccer with us or ran around with the boys like we did. I was supposed to win. So once again we lined up and took off. She did it again! Embarrassingly enough, I think I demanded a rerun three or four times, and the teacher actually aquieced. You’d think after that many losses I would have figured it out as a nine-year old.
However, come junior high and not making the volleyball team, I figured running track sounded like a good idea. The track team didn’t turn anyone away, and Analee was going to do it. Day after day I ran circles, I jumped up and down, and tried to look like I knew what I was doing. The track coach assigned me to run the 800 meter. My dear older brothers gave me pointers, showed me form, and even came to my first track meet. The image of Evan and Gene strutting across the field as I came around the first bend of the track on my first meet is forever ingrained on my memory. My heart took courage and my now not-as-stubby legs sped up a little more. I still came in long after the first five finishers scored their points. Yet, during one of our final meets in Burley, as I came around the last bend of the last lap, it was that same image that spurred me to run a little faster than I had. It wasn’t until I was almost to the finish line I realized all my teammates were cheering my name and I came in 5th scoring one point! My claim to fame is that at that track meet, we only won by one point. And I thought I was a great runner.
During my third year of college at BYU, a few friends who were avid runners decided to run the Provo River Trail half-marathon. I thought it sounded like fun, but after going on a few runs with them, I decided I didn’t enjoy it. So the morning of the race, I lied comfortably in my bed with the sun beginning to stream through my window, and listed to them whoop and holler as they headed out to the race. In the safety of my bed, that morning, a strange thing happened. I regretted not running and decided that one day, I would run a half-marathon.
Which brings me to today – sweaty, winded, and sore – just five days from running the Country Music Marathon in Nashville, TN that I signed up for just four months ago. It seemed like plenty of time to train. How hard could it be, after all?
Oklahoma seems like an extremely FLAT area, until I start running. Would you believe this place is so dang hilly I can barely catch my breath after one hill before I come to another? Just last week, I finally ran the Mile-From-Hell (as my friend Cara and I have affectionately dubbed the section of the turnpike trail closest to my house) straight through without stopping. Who cares about finishing a half-marathon after accomplishing that?! Okay, I do care about finishing the half-marathon. Yet today, I finally realized I am not a good runner. Can I mesh the two epiphanies? Heck, the pioneers walked 13 miles a day, and I don’t even have a handcart! And while I feel like I’m honestly only at a 5K level currently, if I can run in the Oklahoma wind, I can run in anything! The past few runs into the April wind have been strangely reminiscent of those nightmares you have when someone is chasing you and you can’t get away. Only in Oklahoma can you spit in front of yourself and have it land five feet behind you (if not in your face). So it sounds like I’m set! See y’all at the finish line! 
4 comments:
Good luck :)! I can't wait to hear how it goes. And wasn't Analee a track star? So how can you really compare yourself to her ;)? I think you are amazing for running at all.
I have never been a runner, but then I never really wanted to be. I saw too many of my siblings in cross country meets - where everyone who crossed the finish line threw up or passed out. It really killed any delusions of running being fun.
wow, your friend analee must have been super fast. I wonder if she did track in college???
I am so excited that you accomplished a goal. I wish I had a goal to run a marathon, but a las my goals are limited to bthing myself and my daughter at least 2 times a week.
I seriously need to comment on all of your blogs because they are so good. I know now why you majored in english, not one mistake.
keep me informed on your new athletic debut
Leslie you have a blog. Thats awesome. Your posts are really good and fun to read. Anyway congrats on your race. thats awesome. It feels good to finish.
I don't know, I think you're a pretty good runner. I clearly remember how many times you walked to the corner of Alturas and then sprinted down the street with a full backpack to catch the bus!
In all seriousness, I think it's way cooler that you're sticking with this than if you were a track star. I'd have given up ages ago!
Miss you!
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