Running Through the Wall

It's time I talk about running.  I used to think there were two types of people in this world. Those who run for sport, and those who run, only if being chased.  For about 85% of my life, I was the latter.  Running just wasn't my thing.  It was something my dad did. It was his hobby, his livelihood. I just, didn't do that. Then, in my 20's, I started to really gain weight. We lived up in Calais, Maine, and there was absolutely nothing to do. I did nothing but sit around, eat, and get depressed.  So needless to say, I was large. Very large. I did try to do something about it, though.  I decided to try walking/running.  Thing is, whenever it got hard, I would just stop. Give up.  I'd tell myself I'm not a good runner. Then I'd go home and eat pizza and drink beer. Talk about a flawed system.

So, after the birth of my daughter, I got heavy, and really unhealthy again. This time, I really wanted to run. I asked my folks if they would let us use the treadmill/clothes hanger that they weren't using. At first, they hemmed and hawed a bit, but begrudgingly, they brought it up here for us to use.  I started out slowly walking. At first, I went 2 miles. Every time. Then Brennan told me that the distance on that treadmill was way off, and I was walking less than I thought.  I felt sort of guilty. Like I was being a "wuss". So, I started to walk a bit, then run a bit. Walk, run, walk, run.  I felt better, and the weight had started to come off a little. Instead of getting discouraged, and thinking that it wasn't fast enough, I just got inspired. SOMETHING was working. So I kept it up, and shortened my distance. I'd go for 30 minutes, but really slow.  As the days went on, it got easier, and easier, and I was actually jogging.

It came time for me to move it outside. The first time I ran out in the real world, I went close to 2 miles on the bike path near my parents house. It was just so hard. The road is a lot more unforgiving than a bouncy treadmill, so my legs were incredibly sore. To put it bluntly, it really sucked.  Then I got home and saw the beaming look on my dad's face. He seemed so excited that his little girl had just gone for a run. I've always been a "daddy's girl", and to please my father is motivation enough. So, I kept it up. Next thing you know, I was running a 5k distance.  More motivation. I felt like I was really on top of things, so Brennan and I decided to sign up for a real race.  A 10k (6.2 miles). That, to me, seemed like an impossible task. I'd never run that far in my entire life.  But, it was a goal.  It was something to look forward to, and show my self worth.  So, despite how hard it was, I trained for it.  After my first 4 miler, I was so tired, I just started to get mad.  Now normally, that's where I'd give up and say, "Screw this.  I just can't do it. It's too hard."   But something inside me decided to channel the anger. This is where the most pivotal moment in my running career happened.  I broke through a "wall". I would just say to myself, "Run harder Kristi. Make it all go away. Run. Run harder."   So I did.  Suddenly, it wasn't as hard. I was just...running.  It felt amazing. I was DOING it.  So after finishing my first race, the feeling of accomplishment was strong in me. I wanted more. I was addicted.  So we kept it up. We just kept running. It was, a healthful hobby I guess.

Then I realized running was where I was doing most of my "thinking". It was almost cathartic for me.  2010 was a very difficult year for me.  I swear to this day, one of the things that helped me live through it, was running. When my sister first told me she had cancer, I didn't know what to think. My brain started running around like crazy, so I just said to myself.  "Go out and run."  So I ran and ran and ran, and I cried and cried and cried. Running was almost like my therapy. I ran when I found out my Nana was dying. I ran when Brennan and I were fighting. I ran for everything.  Then I decided that I was going to run a half marathon.  It seemed ridiculous, but I was going to give it my best shot.

It was very strenuous, crazy training. 7 miles, then 8, then 9, and pow...next thing ya know, I was going 11. When the time came to run 13, I rocked it. But I didn't do it just for me. It was for my sister, my father, everyone. It's hard to say what running that race meant to me.  And to have done it again, with NO training and while sick?  Well, that's another story, but I did that too.

So it comes down to this. Running has become more than just a way to lose weight for me.  It's become more than just being healthy. It's about breaking down walls. It's about determination.  It's about proving to myself that I can do this. It's about endurance. It's my life now. It's what I do.  And I've never ever been more true to myself.