Running

I've done some really great things in my life. It's a good thing I feel that way because the things I consider great just make me a pretty typical person. No Nobel Prizes for me, it takes a tremendous amount of study for me to operate a cell phone or a computer, I haven't been on a mission to help a devastated country, I've never won an Academy Award or placed on American Idol but, I once was a runner.

Of course, I never went to the Olympics or the Boston Marathon. I wasn't good enough for them but, plenty good enough for me.

It all started in the late seventies when I was a newlywed and had such a desire to get in really good shape. At the time the Y was there and a new crop of fitness places had begun to spring up. Alas, they cost money which was not plentiful for a new bride whose husband was in college. So what was a formerly non-athletic girl to do? I was a klutz at tennis, couldn't swim that well and my prior life experiences proved that I was never going to be a star or a competitor in organized sports.

I can't remember why exactly I thought I could run when my running in grade school and HS gym classes placed me, most of the time, in last place. I think maybe I had seen on TV that Farrah Fawcett, Mick Jagger and a host of others "jogged". It seemed like such a cool thing to do.

So on a January day in '78 I went out and tried to run a mile around our apartment complex. My efforts were a bit pathetic at first but, by Spring I had persevered enough to branch out from my comfort zone and go further. By Summer, running was in my blood. By Fall, I was logging miles and, by Winter, weather was not an option for missing my daily run.

In the years that followed it was a known fact that I got up each morning early enough to run my ten miles before work. My husband, bless his heart, knew that on most weekends he would be hauling me to locations to watch and wait for me to run a race. Same went for family or friends who wanted to see me on a Saturday or Sunday.

I can still feel the joy of the "runner's high", a better pair of running shoes and, just the delight of being alone with my thoughts while doing something that felt good and was good for me. The movie "Chariots of Fire" came out during this time and I can still hear the music.

Now it's some thirty years later and, though I still consider myself a runner, I haven't done it so much for a really long time. My first pregnancy in 1985 slowed me down considerably as did subsequent pregnancies, motherhood and life in general. Of course, by then I was an athlete and found many great ways to stay in shape with two babies/children in tow. However, it became quite impossible to crawl out of bed and take off for a hour or so to be alone with my thoughts. I actually met other women who managed to do it but, it never quite worked for me. I had no doubt that one day "I WOULD BE BACK".

So, time went by and my children grew up and left the nest. The ultimate opportunity to regain my runner's mojo. It just wasn't that easy. By that time my exercise attempts had become much more sporadic, my body was a couple of decades older and, my feet were a mess. So, by the age of 50 I had given up hope of ever really running again.

Now, some six years later with the help of an Ipod (how did I ever run without one?), surgeries to correct my aching feet and, a sheer determination to get back out there; I am making strides. One of my "Bucket List" requirements is to drag my husband, children and maybe, grandchildren out there to watch me run a race. I think it could be possible as I feel that drive of 1978.