I wasn’t always a
runner. I was not one of those
people who ran track in high school.
I was briefly on the track team in junior high, but I was too scared to
actually run a race and was cut from the team for the next year. I made a lot of false starts with running,
no pun intended. I would determine
to go to a local track after school, would get a few minutes into a run, and
would run out of gas quite soon after and quit. Basically, I was non-athletic in the extreme during my teen
years and early twenties. Finally
in my mid-20s I began cycling with my then-husband. We would ride with our young daughter in an attached
carrier, where she was well protected and free to play with toys while watching
the scenery go by. I don’t know
exactly why, but I always thought about running and was eventually drawn back to it. Tentatively, I would run around a small park in town,
slowing down often, but gradually working my way up to longer runs.
For many years I ran 5 miles
at least a couple of times a week, even running a marathon and some smaller
races. It has only been the last
six months or so that I have really ramped up my running, having run three
half-marathons in the last six months and regularly running 10 miles one day
per week in addition to several shorter runs. At this point, I can’t imagine my life without running.
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