Running away. Then back again.

On September 5, 2011 I ran for the very first time in my life.  It was such a momentous occasion, that I blogged about it.

See  :  How far can I push it?

Sure, I had completed a few "runs" before:

Those dreaded PE tests we all had to endure every year in grades 1-12. 

Godawful line drills during volleyball practice.

Running from the cops when a party was busted and we were underage...  Did I say that out loud?

But I had never ever in my lifetime run with purpose or by choice.

However, on that beautiful, overcast morning in September, I knew exactly why I wanted to run.  I was running away from unhappiness.  From a sense of being trapped.  Far away from being made to feel "less than" what I wanted to be. 

I was running away from my marriage.  I was running with my heart.

In a little over a month, I went from someone who couldn't run to the end of my driveway to someone who'd signed up for a 5K.  When I registered for the race, I had absolutely zero faith that I'd be able to complete it.  And even on the morning of 10/29/11 when I drove out to the beach in the rain and the cold to pick up my number and wait at the starting point, I was pretty sure the endeavor would be epic fail.

But a funny thing happened when I saw my friend Jess (who was training for the Kiawah half-marathon) next to me: I decided I HAD to finish.  I didn't want to fail.  I wanted to fight my way through it.  I hadn't fought for anything in a long time.

Lucky for me, Jess was great at pacing.  I knew she was a more experienced runner than I was, and I figured if I could just keep somewhat close to her, I would be successful.  And I was right!

Over the next few months, I ran two more 5Ks and registered for a third.  I also injured my hamstring in the desert of Arizona. 

The situation wasn't ideal and neither was my personal life.  Regardless, I committed to running my first 10 miler, the Disney Twilight Zone Tower of Terror 10 miler weekend, on September 28-29th, 2012 with my bestie Amanda Guillot.

It's been a long road in many more ways than one.  I was unable to run for almost 4 months and got VERY behind in my training.  Luckily, I found solace in YoPilates, Flow Yoga, and Yoga Sculpt to maintain flexibility and stamina. 

The past few weeks have been a true test of how far I want to push it.  It would probably be best to back off the training and not run the 10 miles I'm aiming for.  But at this point in my life, I have something to prove: I'm strong.  I won't back down.  And even if it seems insurmountable, I will make it to the finish.

It might hurt.  I might not run again for quite some time when it's over.  But at least I can say that I survived it and didn't give up.  Quite the metaphor for my life in general right now.

So instead of watching the Olympics Wednesday night when my kids aren't here, I'll force myself to run the 7 miles I'm dreading.  I think I can do it.  After all, I ran 6 today just thinking about what's to come tomorrow.

And just like last September, I'm running with my heart.  Not with my legs.