I can’t remember a time when I didn’t run. I don’t mean that I took it very seriously, or was even that good. But in between ballet and gymnastics in middle school, swimming and diving in high school, weekends spent riding horses since I was 13, and winter weekends spent skiing since I was 8, I always made time for running.
What appealed to me most about running was the freedom of being able to step out my front door and log a few miles whenever I was in the mood. I didn’t have to wait for a sports practice to roll around, and I could go however far or fast I wanted.
But if you had asked me at any point if I considered myself a runner, I would’ve said no. In my mind, the term “runner” was reserved for those who took it seriously, those who timed and paced their runs, those who ran cross country and track in school, those who zapatillas de running niño niña competición pie normal talla 26—not someone like me who casually ran around my neighborhood without so much as a GPS watch Spark 7 Running Shoes 5Ks at random to hold me accountable for getting in some exercise that day.
When I landed an internship—and later, a full time job—at Runner’s World, I was surrounded by runners. Everyone in the office ran pretty much every day, and their love of running was contagious. Soon enough, I, too, was running as often as them.
adidas ActiveFlex Boa K Black White Red Kids Preschool Running Shoes FZ5055 get faster, and about the sport in general. I could fire out marathon world record times when asked. I cheered for Des Linden during the final stretch of the Boston Marathon Красная футболка с логотипом New Balance Running Tenacity Eliud Kipchoge, Sneakers Paris Sneakers In Leather break two hours in the marathon. I was inspired by the accomplishments of these pro runners, and I wanted to take my own running to the next level. This is why people loved running so much. It all made sense.
In 2018, high on all running had to offer, I signed up for my first half marathon. Never in my life did I think I’d ever run 13.1 miles at once, but my training—a mix of speed workouts, long runs, and CrossFit sessions—was going well. Most importantly, I was enjoying myself. I was doing a lot, but I hadn’t worked this hard in a while, and it felt good. I was in the best shape of my life—physically and mentally.
[Runner’s World 10-Minute Cross-Training, Dolce & Gabbana Kids mixed-print sandals.]
On race day I was a nervous wreck, but I had no expectations—other than to actually finish the race. The first 10 miles felt good, but the last 5K felt as long as those first 10 miles. Regardless, crossing the finish line made me feel accomplished, and I knew that half marathon wouldn’t be my last. The next day I went on a shakeout run, determined to keep my running fitness up.
I took the rest of the week off to give my body a chance to recover, a break that started out innocently enough. But then something shifted.
For some reason, I became hyper-aware of the conversations that runners around me were having. They talked about their uber-fast mile splits, about coming in first at their most recent race—and about how those things were never enough for them. They wanted to be better, faster. If a seven-minute mile wasn’t quick enough for them, what did that mean for my 10-minute mile?
For the first time in my life, I considered myself a runner—but was I wrong? Was I not there yet? Would I ever be?
Most people, at least I think, would use these feelings of self-doubt to motivate themselves to get faster. If you’re constantly comparing yourself to better runners, it seems logical that you’d put in the work to get to that level—or as close as you could to it.
But instead, I took the opposite approach: I swore off running. If I couldn’t beat them, I simply wouldn’t join them.
zapatillas de running Brooks 10k talla 38.5 blancas más de 100 clothing footwear women lighters shoe-care., a sports psychologist at the Hospital of Special Surgery in New York City, to get a sense of why someone might have this attitude, and I realized that I was tying my success as a runner to others—not myself.
“Everyone is on their own trajectory, especially since running is so individual,” she said. “You have to figure out your own intention of why you run in the first place. Are you out there to stay fit? To clear your head? Do you want to improve your times? Do you want to qualify for a major race?”
I’ve always run for the first two reasons she mentioned, but the more I became embedded with the running community, the more people I encountered who ran to get faster and qualify for races like the Boston Marathon. Some were even former NCAA runners. And I felt like a total failure compared to all of them.
Logically, I knew it didn’t make sense to compare myself to people who had an entirely different start line than I did. No one Monica Sneakers Tell You Vans x Rassvet PACCBET by running three very averagely paced miles a few times a week. Yet here I was, angry at the fact that I would never be able to run a 3:30 marathon while simultaneously putting in none of the necessary work to achieve that.
Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of my own personal reasons for running. More accurately, I didn’t think my reasons were good enough. Once again, the idea of what I thought a “real” runner was came flooding back to me. “Real” runners had these types of goals. I didn’t. You do the math.
This mindset led to some serious burnout, and I’d tell anyone who would listen about it. When a Runner’s World coworker would ask if I was running at lunch, I’d say I was lifting in my office’s gym or going to CrossFit after work. I hated running on the only three-mile loop near my office. My lifting shoes got most of the action, while my running shoes gathered dust on my shoe rack.
I missed the long bouts of cardio, so I’d go out for a few miles here and there with coworkers. But because I wasn’t running on a regular basis, the runs were slow and felt hard. Most of the time, I’d tell the people I was running with to go on ahead without me—I didn’t want to feel responsible for holding them back—but these situations only left me feeling discouraged all over again. Rinse and repeat. It was a vicious cycle of negative thought patterns plaguing me during my runs.
Roche talked about redefining success, and I think I would have gotten less frustrated with myself had I known to do that. Instead of viewing “success” as being able to run far or fast, I would have lowered my expectations a bit, defining success as merely getting out the door.
“Rather than checking your watch and thinking you’re terrible, shift your focus to what you need to do tactically,” she said. “Break it down into small bits, and focus on what’s right in front of you.” Maybe that’s focusing on your breathing or your arm swing, she said, or maybe it’s running to the next telephone pole ... and then the next one after that.
Jordan AirJordan 4 Retro sneakers Rosa coronavirus pandemic zapatillas de running Nike niño niña constitución media talla 44 amarillas home workouts a girl can do. I told my roommate one day: “Make sure I run later.” I needed someone to hold me accountable.
Part of what sparked actual excitement about the prospect of a run—something I hadn’t felt in a long time—was the stir-craziness that came from being cooped up in the house during Pennsylvania’s shelter-in-place mandate. I needed to get outside. The other part of it was that I wouldn’t be running with anyone—there were no expectations to maintain a certain pace.
I changed into running clothes the second I finished work; I knew that if I waited even 30 seconds, I probably would have tried to talk myself out of it. It was finally the time of year where the sun sets around 7:15 p.m. and not 4:15 p.m.. The air was crisp, and it felt like the nice weather might actually stick around for a while. I didn’t have a set number of miles planned. There was no one I felt I had to keep up with. I didn’t feel any pressure.
I stepped out the door and immediately began running—slowly at first, but once I got into a groove, I picked up the pace a bit more. I listened to my breathing, which was getting louder by the minute. I felt like I was going fast, but I wasn’t wearing a watch to confirm. There was nothing and no one to compare myself to, and I felt happy for the first time in what felt like months.
I’m now logging miles regularly again—two to three miles a couple of days during the week and four to five miles on the weekends, and I plan on working my way back up to longer weekend runs. I’m slowly but surely coming to realize all mile times are valid, and more importantly, all runners are valid.
Maybe—just maybe—I’m back in the game.
