the time i hated running.

Running is a whole lot of things.

Sometimes it’s glorious. Sometimes it’s frustrating. Sometimes you wonder why in the world you laced your shoes up in the first place. Sometimes you feel like you’re going as fast as the wind and no one can stop you.

When I first started running, I would be lying if I told you that I loved it. Actually, I hated it. Running was hard. People who ran for fun were weird. I never looked forward to my runs.

But I desperately with every fiber in my being wanted to like running.

I first started running when I was a sophomore in college.

And that could quite possibly be the best picture ever. And I still have that tank top. Perfect.

Or that one is even better. And apparently I enjoy those pants.

Where was I? Oh yes — running…

I would work out in the basement of my dorm building, where there was a small fitness center. There was a total of three treadmills, three elliptical, and many free weights where the boys would go to grunt and woman watch. There was always a line for that decrepit treadmill too. It was wobbly, old, and to be perfectly honest with you, I was always afraid I would fall off of it and make a fool of myself. These treadmills were placed right in front of mirrors, so try as you might, but you would always have to look at yourself running which was pretty traumatic for someone who hated it.

Low and behold, I always waited for a treadmill. I signed my name up and waited… and waited… and waited. All that time I was waiting I could have gone out and run four miles outside instead. But that’s pretty laughable since I could barely run ten minutes without feeling like I wanted to keel over and die.

When it was my turn, I had to act fast. If I hesitated to walk to my treadmill, another girl could swoop in for the kill and steal my treadmill. Laugh if you must, but it happened before. When there was a line for the ‘mill (did I seriously just do that?), one was only allotted twenty total minutes to run. Believe you me, twenty minutes was enough for this girl.

I remember one particular night I had my iPod blaring, I was looking myself square in the face because of that wretched mirror, and I promised myself I was going to run the entire twenty minutes without stopping once. After about five minutes, I was cursing myself. At ten minutes, I was telling myself I couldn’t do it. At fifteen minutes, I couldn’t believe I only had five minutes left and encouraged myself to keep going. It was that night that I began telling myself that “I can do anything for five minutes”.

And then, the twenty minutes were over.

I was sweating, shaking, and smiling like a crazy person. People around me were probably talking about the crazy girl looking at herself in the mirror, congratulating herself for running for twenty minutes straight.

I bet you’re wondering right now what the point of this story was, right?

The point is — I didn’t always love running. I wasn’t always good at it (heck, even some days now I’m not good at it). I didn’t always have the endurance I do now. I didn’t grow up running half marathons every other weekend or even running on a cross country team.

I used my own determination and my own positive attitude to get me to love running. I started slow. I took my time to build up my mileage. I didn’t compare myself to others. I just let myself be.

I never want running to be something I feel like I “have” to do — because the second that starts to happen, the less I want to do it. I run because I like the way I feel when I’m done — like I’ve accomplished something for myself. I enjoy the quiet time I have with myself. Running is a personal challenge for me — and since I am a goals orientated person, I set my goals small at first, slowly making my way up to — yes, a half marathon.

Anyone can become a runner. It takes time. It takes hard work. It takes mini-goals. But it can be done.

Tagged as: advice, how to start running, running, running story, why I love running