Monday, November 14, 2011

My First Run

"This is stupid" was the phrase that was running through my head. "I signed up for tennis, not running. Why am I running?" I glanced over at my mom, who seemed to be enjoying this...this...exercise. "My boobs hurt," I announced to her loudly. "We'll probably have to get you a sports bra," was her quick and even reply. Ah-ha. At least something good will come out of this torture. New bras!

I feel fortunate that I remember my very first real "run." I think it helps me to connect with new runners. I also think it helps me not to take running for granted. It's not something that everyone will enjoy immediately and it's not something that is easy to start on your own.

During my freshman year of high school, I proclaimed that next year, I would join the tennis team instead of enduring the torture and boredom of marching band. As a bassoon player (it's the long instrument that looks like a bedpost), I was not able to march with my original instrument. The school decided it would be a good idea to get me to play the BASS DRUM, which was so different and scary that I hated every minute of marching band (also the uniforms were just icky). Luckily, if I joined the tennis team, I would be exempt from ever touching a drum again.

However, after I announced my decision to my parents, my mom came up with a novel idea: better go for a run. If I was going to join the tennis team, I'd have to bring something to the table. Might as well face it - I will never be a star tennis player. I am barely a decent tennis player. But if I could show that I was fit, eager, and ready for anything, then I might have a chance to join the team and make it through try-outs.

So on one sunny day, my mom made me go for a run with her. Looking back, it was probably a little less than a mile. I run on that path all the time now when I go home to see my parents. But at the time, it seemed like we must have been running for HOURS. I had no idea why my chest hurt. I had no idea why my feet hurt. Why would anyone subject themselves to this? But my mom stood fast - if I was going to be an athlete, that meant learning how to run.

Because of this, I was able to join the tennis team. And I was able to pass all my teammates whenever we did running exercises. I was fit. I was ready. I was eager to learn anything and everything. And so they let me join the team.

When I went to college and didn't have to play a sport to get out of marching band, I found that all I really wanted to do was run. And now, well, all I want to do is run. I have found something that I profoundly love and enjoy. Now, over 10 years later, my mom credits me with getting her into races and running. I guess her love for me overshadows that humiliating first run, during which she encouraged me and helped me to get past the first hurdles. Maybe she really has forgotten that she is the reason why I am who I am today (for so many reasons).

Maybe it's time I reminded her and maybe it's even time that I say thank you!

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