I spent my twenties working in physically demanding jobs, never pursuing a university degree or shifting into a professional white-collar career until my thirties. The jobs themselves provided me with sufficient conditioning. Exercise, as a separate activity, was never really a consideration. In fact, the idea of running seemed nothing short of ridiculous—hard, pointless, and something I would sarcastically respond to with, “Good for you,” while inwardly scoffing. Life, however, sometimes delivers unexpected opportunities, one of which occurred for me in my early forties when a work colleague invited me to join a local 10k race.
He needed 10 participants to garner company sponsorship and I would be the 10th. I reluctantly acquiesced, with all subsequent training for the race done indoors on a treadmill.
I finished the race in 51 minutes—which was alright and likely would not have run another but for another request.
That fall, the same colleague asked me to join his team for an autumn relay race, where I’d only need to run one of the shortest legs. Once again, I agreed, although this time with even more reluctance. I trained half-heartedly, developed shin splints, cursed every treadmill session, and swore this would be my last race EVER!. That frustration fueled a vow: once this obligation was satisfied I would forever abstain from the pursuit of running, IN ANY FORM!
Life, however, has a way of challenging our assumptions. At a pre-race meeting, I bumped into a former colleague who was running a leg of the relay as well. He had completely transformed his physique since I last saw him, as a result of becoming a runner. He had just finished a marathon and looked fitter and more toned than ever. Intrigued by his change, I became curious. A seed of wonder if there was more to running than I’d thought has been planted.
On race day, I ran a 9.5 km leg. It went well—though at the time, I had no real sense of what “good” or “bad” was in running. The enthusiasm from the team and my transformed colleague’s goal of qualifying for the Boston Marathon stirred something in me. Even as a non-runner, I understood the prestige of the Boston Marathon, and my curiosity grew. So much so, that I ignored my earlier vow and registered for another 10k race two weeks later.
In that race, I surprised myself. I ran the 10k in 43 minutes, a reasonable result given I knew little about pacing or proper training. The race was not as hard as I expected, leaving me wondering how much faster I could go if I actually trained. Suddenly, the vow to avoid running forever seemed absurd.
I started training seriously—three times a week at first, then ramping up to five days. I invested in gear, shoes, shirts, rain apparel, ditched the treadmill, and embraced the outdoors. By February, I had dropped 15 pounds and had really embrace the vigour of running. I had a little extra bounce in my step. It was becoming more than just a way to stay in shape; it had interrupted the inevitable path to weight gain that comes with a sedentary office job and life over 40. Running was becoming a source of joy, and yes, even excitement. The discovery of endorphins, released in the brain while running providing the runner’s high, is something I have never gotten over.
That spring, I ran the same annual 10 km race I had run in the previous year and this time I ran it in 36 minutes. With that result, in tandem with the earlier weight loss, the proverbial beast was born. Something had clicked for me that was most unexpected. Not only could I stay in shape through this pursuit, I could compete at it — and that competitive spark in me was lit. The runner in me was born.
From there any hesitancy in me being a runner evaporated. I ran my first half marathon later that spring, finishing second in my age group, winning my first race result: a West Coast Aboriginal art piece I still cherish today, 25 years later. By fall, I had completed my first full marathon. There have been many ups and downs, injuries, and discoveries yet I never again wavered from my joy and excitement about being a runner.
I am grateful that I had the wherewithal to embrace the opportunity presented to me and taking on a pursuit I was essentially made for. That is, going from a very reluctant participant in a race to someone that has now complete 150 or more of them, run 80,000 kilometres, and loved every step. I invite you to embrace that which you resist, to at least consider what may be possible. Sometimes the universe is directing us along a path that takes a little to discover, to see, and a little inner persistence, or in my case a colleague encouraging me, is what it takes to start.
Let’s get started!
