I am a runner

This is not something I ever thought I would say about myself 18 months ago – right before I started running. When I first started, running was so hard. And you know what? Its still SO HARD. I keep waiting for it to get easier, to be able to proudly declare “I am a runner!” but I don’t think that’s the kind of runner I am. It’s the most physically difficult thing I have ever done, and gosh if it isn't mentally tough as well.

I've been thinking about how hard running is a lot this winter, mostly because running has been torture. First of all, this winter has been cold. REALLY really cold. I've lived in Virginia for many years now and don’t ever remember so many really cold days. One run we had this winter, we were running along the tidal basin in DC, the wind was blowing, and we were running on packed snow/ice. The ice in my CamelBak was frozen.  At one point, when I got snow in my shoes, I just stopped. I couldn't go on. But because our car keys had run again, I was convinced to keep going. I was cold for days – shaking, with bright red splotches of skin. After another particularly cold early morning run in maybe 12 degree weather, my running friends and I instituted a temperature minimum of 15 degrees – which included the wind chill. That has helped, but gosh, running in 20 degrees is cold too.

I've also had a lot of injuries this winter. I've struggled on and off with shin splits, and this winter they were really bad. I also fell a couple times, twisting my ankle. Last time I fell, I lay on the ground wanting to cry, not from pain as much as from frustration. Luckily I run with really good people who dust me off, give me a hug, walk me home, and then bandage me up.

I've missed some of my really good running buddies. Due to a variety of circumstance, two really good running buddies were unavailable for part of the winter. Thankfully they took turns, and I have a few other really good running friends I can rely on too. I am so lucky in this regard. I have probably run alone for a total of MAYBE 10 times. That’s it. So lucky.

One weekend last month, I went for a run alone, and it was so hard. As I reflected on how hard it was, that is when I realized: I am a runner. If I wasn't, I would have given up a long time ago.