During
my school years we had to participate in the President’s Physical Fitness Test
– a series of different athletic activities that take place every year for American school
children to gauge (and, apparently, to encourage) their fitness. I remember
enjoying most of these events: long jump, high jump, weight lifting... but the
one I hated - the one I loathed more than anything on this earth - was the timed
mile. I hated it because I was awful at it. Make me chase after a ball and I
will run after it for days. Put me on a circular track and tell me to run
around it four times as fast as I can, and you may as well have asked me to gnaw
off my own foot. Not only was it boring and monotonous, but I was always last. Always. And I just hated not being good at something. I
remember one year, I must have been about 11 or 12 years old, it took me 18
minutes to finish the mile. Yes, that’s right, I ran an 18 minute mile. 18 minutes! I remember one of my
classmates later telling me, “wow, you’re really bad at running!”. And so the
story was put into my head: I am really
bad at running. And if I’m bad at it, I hate it. Ergo, I hate running.
This
hatred for all things running-related was only further solidified by my sports
coaches using running as punishment. Late for practice? Take a lap. Have an
awful game? Take a lap. All of these experiences only helped to prove to me
that running was a horrible, horrible thing and should be avoided at all costs.
So
you can imagine that, at 32 years old, learning to run wasn’t exactly top of my list of things I was excited to do. This reluctance wasn't helped by the self-doubt I had been carrying around with me ever since the dreaded day of the 18 minute mile 20 years earlier. I'm sure many of you will more than likely be familiar with that little voice inside your head who keeps filling you with self-doubt. Well, mine is called Negative Nancy, and there is nothing she loves more than talking me out of running. When I started my training for the marathon, I could only run one minute at a time before having to stop. So I started out with what I had: I would run a minute, walk a minute, run a minute, etc, until I had done 10 minutes of running. I did this along the main road that goes through our village - and there were cars there - with people in them! I would feel so incredibly embarrassed as my belly, thighs and pretty much every other fatty part of me would jiggle like a bowl of Jello as I would heave my mass down the busy road. This embarrassment was definitely not helped by Negative Nancy, who was always there to remind me just how incredibly stupid I looked, like the crazy mom in Stephen King's 'Carrie':
"You look ridiculous when you run - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
"You're too fat to run - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
"You struggle to run more than a minute - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
Even when I joined Hillseeker Crossfit, Negative Nancy was always there to tell me why it was such a stupid idea to go, and I should just turn off my alarm and go back to sleep:
"You always come in last place - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
"You're not as strong as everyone else - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
"You're twice the size as everyone else - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
She tried anything she could to keep me from getting out there. And in the beginning sometimes she won and I would agree with her and stay inside where it was warm, safe and out of view of others. But eventually I had my realization: when I see people running, no matter what size they are, how old they are, or how "bad" they look, I have never thought like Negative Nancy. Instead, I always thought, "wow, good for you to get out there and do something rather than sitting around moaning about it". I was always impressed with people who, despite their size or age, ignored their own self-doubts and had the courage to get out there and do what they had to do to get fit. That's when it hit me: Negative Nancy is full of it. No one is going to see me running along the road and laugh at me - just like I wouldn't laugh at someone else I saw running.
And even if they did laugh - who cares?! I don't know them, never will, and (the plus side to being an expat) I don't even understand their language so couldn't know if they were laughing at me or not! So, what was my problem? Nothing. It was all in my head, and I just had to find a way to shut Negative Nancy up and get on with it.
So some of you may be thinking:
"I'm too fat to start running"
"I'm too old to start running"
"I don't want to come in last place"
I know this because I used to think these things. I used to think it was too late for me to start running. Or I was too out of shape or too overweight or too busy or too injured, etc etc etc. I was letting Negative Nancy talk me out of it and I was getting nowhere in plenty of time. And it wasn't until I shut her up and got out there that I realized what I'm actually capable of.
Negative Nancy is still there trying to talk me out of the things that I want to do. But I'm a lot better at ignoring her and just getting on with it. And yes, I still come in last place most of the time. I am the slowest in my crossfit. Of the three races I ran this year, I was pretty much dead last in every single one of them. But here's the thing: I don't care. Even when I didn't finish this year's JungFrau Marathon, I wasn't entirely heartbroken because, hey at least I was there and not sitting on my couch wishing I was there. Plus, there's always next year.
As one of my good friends and a fellow runner once told me: "there is a special kind of courage in always coming last but never giving up". So if my role is to be the Rudy of running, so be it. Plus, maybe one day I will get carried off a mountain (in a triumphant way, not in an ambulance or helicopter).
So this (finally) brings me to my point. We are all good at different things - and just because you may not be the sportiest or fittest person, it doesn't mean you never will be. It just means you need get out there and get on with it. The hardest part of getting into anything is starting. And the hardest part to starting it is ignoring Negative Nancy, telling her to shut it, and just get out there. So with that said, I'll see you on the trails!
"You look ridiculous when you run - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
"You're too fat to run - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
"You struggle to run more than a minute - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
Even when I joined Hillseeker Crossfit, Negative Nancy was always there to tell me why it was such a stupid idea to go, and I should just turn off my alarm and go back to sleep:
"You always come in last place - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
"You're not as strong as everyone else - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
"You're twice the size as everyone else - they're all gonna laugh at you!"
She tried anything she could to keep me from getting out there. And in the beginning sometimes she won and I would agree with her and stay inside where it was warm, safe and out of view of others. But eventually I had my realization: when I see people running, no matter what size they are, how old they are, or how "bad" they look, I have never thought like Negative Nancy. Instead, I always thought, "wow, good for you to get out there and do something rather than sitting around moaning about it". I was always impressed with people who, despite their size or age, ignored their own self-doubts and had the courage to get out there and do what they had to do to get fit. That's when it hit me: Negative Nancy is full of it. No one is going to see me running along the road and laugh at me - just like I wouldn't laugh at someone else I saw running.
And even if they did laugh - who cares?! I don't know them, never will, and (the plus side to being an expat) I don't even understand their language so couldn't know if they were laughing at me or not! So, what was my problem? Nothing. It was all in my head, and I just had to find a way to shut Negative Nancy up and get on with it.
So some of you may be thinking:
"I'm too fat to start running"
"I'm too old to start running"
"I don't want to come in last place"
I know this because I used to think these things. I used to think it was too late for me to start running. Or I was too out of shape or too overweight or too busy or too injured, etc etc etc. I was letting Negative Nancy talk me out of it and I was getting nowhere in plenty of time. And it wasn't until I shut her up and got out there that I realized what I'm actually capable of.
Negative Nancy is still there trying to talk me out of the things that I want to do. But I'm a lot better at ignoring her and just getting on with it. And yes, I still come in last place most of the time. I am the slowest in my crossfit. Of the three races I ran this year, I was pretty much dead last in every single one of them. But here's the thing: I don't care. Even when I didn't finish this year's JungFrau Marathon, I wasn't entirely heartbroken because, hey at least I was there and not sitting on my couch wishing I was there. Plus, there's always next year.
As one of my good friends and a fellow runner once told me: "there is a special kind of courage in always coming last but never giving up". So if my role is to be the Rudy of running, so be it. Plus, maybe one day I will get carried off a mountain (in a triumphant way, not in an ambulance or helicopter).
So this (finally) brings me to my point. We are all good at different things - and just because you may not be the sportiest or fittest person, it doesn't mean you never will be. It just means you need get out there and get on with it. The hardest part of getting into anything is starting. And the hardest part to starting it is ignoring Negative Nancy, telling her to shut it, and just get out there. So with that said, I'll see you on the trails!
