I came to this planet running. What that means, I am not quite sure. What I can tell you is that from a very young age, I loved to run. With shoes, without, sandals--hell you should see me in 4" heels. Running provided many things for me. It mainly provided an outlet of competition, something I just adore. Yes, I love competition. Male, female, animal, machine, whatever. This is a driver in my life.
I recall at the age of 10 which was my first competition. I was lucky enough to attend a private school that actually had a track team that competed against other local schools. The sheer rush of adrenalin that surge my electrical system was a high and this carried on for many years. Not only competition but the fleeting joy of letting my bio-mechanics take over and I could drift off into state I felt like entertaining. Otherwise known as "runners high", I could simply view a movie, read a book, or create a painting in my head and all the while my little body just kept going. If I wasn't running with my classmates, I was indeed running by myself on the weekends. Well, it wasn't just solely running; it was hiking, cycling, or swimming. I believe part of my blueprint called for this and so it became a life long passion.
During my teens years, mainly high school I had the audacity to run and drink. I know you're thinking run and drink? Well, what that entailed was fifth of vodka before 5th period straight into Cross Country running practice. I hated my coach, George Wiles. He was the type of coach that if the image didn't fit then the talent or ability wasn't up to par. I blew that theory out of the water. I had a Mohawk during my sophomore and junior year and ran a 5:51 mile. I ran with the boys and they actually liked it. George never paired me with our top male runner, Tommy Grey because of my image so we suffered losing points because Deanna Jones had long blonde hair and that looked far better than the freak girl with blue hair. George knew I drank but he couldn't stand to lose me as my 3K and 800 meter flight records held the team together for finals.
After shitting high school out of my system, I wanted to grow up so badly. I wanted it all and I was on the fast track to marathon running. Running was always the side hobby after work and before going to a party on a Saturday night. It kept me in time and in step; running is like having telescoping vision. I finally mustered up the guts to run my first marathon at 19. I got a lot of flack from my ex-husband (bf at the time) but he knew that I could accomplish anything and this bugged the piss out of him. After ditching him for the day and coming home with a 2:45:31 time, I almost decided to throw away my career dreams and just run for a living. Life takes turns and well, I got married, had children, and bought a home. You may be thinking, "the sellout"! Mmmm....not really, i didn't stop and by the time my youngest was 9, he was running with me. I'll skip over all the in between years of bullshit, because well, it's pointless. Seriously.
Fast forward to my early thirties, I now had 8 marathons under my belt, normally picking my favorite race of the liter once a year. Out of the major city races, Los Angeles still has my heart and is the interval ass kicker. If you know anything about V02 max, LA was the King of race measurement and the thrill of being pushed right to that insane edge of exhausting your system. When you think of fine tuned bio-mechanics the body is capable of great feats and punishment. But as the years passed something started to change in my muscular structure. The only way to explain it was acknowledgement of the aging process. As I was training for San Diego in 2004, I noticed my muscles not repairing as quickly as they did in the past. Since I steer towards homeopathy, I knew all the tricks for supplementing and changing ratio of simple carbs since I was never one for breads or pastas. For the first time ever my time slipped and it was bad. Being so disappointed as a sluggish 34 year old, I thought, "Is this it...boohoo, no more?"
After reflecting on the worst race of my life, I figured everyone goes out to pasture at some time in their life. I completed my last marathon in 2010, put out to graze at the age of 40 finishing at a sad 3:52:11. I swore on my life once I hit the '4 hour club' I was done. Fin! I don't really blame age anymore, I blame my bodies internal alignment with running. I stopped running. I was no longer running. If anyone tells you runners aren't running away, they're lying or unwilling to subconsciously admit what propels them. I have met even the most stable, even minded people who still run 30 to 35 miles a week and yes, they have demons. Why do I mention demons? Because of the fact that the human mind is a complex machine possibly shattered by all of its experiences, don't ever let anybody tell you they run because of sheer delight. Think about the scene in 'Forest Gump' when he stops running...yea, enough said.
I have a race to run the morning of July 4th. It's but a mere 5k and more of a trot for fun! It's not competition, it's paying homage to a past time that kicked my ass. I no longer go the distance.
What are you running to/from?
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