How I started running
January 10th, 2011I’m guessing a lot of us have made resolutions in the last few weeks. These might include losing weight, quitting smoking or starting running. I’m also guessing that a lot of them have already been broken. I heard somewhere once that the average smoker makes something like six or seven different attempts to quit smoking before they finally succeed. And you can forget the idea that it takes three weeks to establish a new habit. That figure, which is often quoted in magazines and online as a “motivation” tip, originally came from a study about the length of time it takes amputees to adapt to a new prosthetic. So if you’re trying to establish a habit or you find that it’s taking you longer than three weeks, don’t despair. By my count, it took me five attempts over approximately 12 years to become a runner. Here’s how it went.
The first time I tried running must have been in grade 7. My sadistic gym teacher (do gym teachers come in any other variety?) used to have us run laps around the soccer field before class. I hated doing these laps with a fiery passion. Not coincidentally, this also marked the first appearance of my side stitch. Although I was not running of my own free will, these laps did nothing to endear running to me.
The second time I tried running was in grade 9. My junior high participated in the Ottawa race weekend in the 5km. I have no idea why I signed up. I think a friend of mine was doing it and I caved to peer pressure (hint: this comes up later in my story too). I trained after school with a few other students but couldn’t figure out why these runs were so hard for me. Turns out that the “cold” I had been fighting for a few weeks was actually pneumonia. So ended that attempt to start running.
The third time I tried running was the summer after grade 11. I had recently started dating a boy who ran on the high school cross country team (this man later became Mr. Shuffler) and I wanted to impress him with my athleticism. Having no idea how to go about this, I chose to run around the block every day, trying not to do any walking. This lasted about a week. I attribute this failure mostly to the fact that 1) it was July and 2) I had chosen mid-afternoon as the best time to run. Luckily, the boy appreciated my other sterling personal qualities and so my little foray into running became irrelevant.
In the intervening years, I was usually engaged in some kind of physical activity (ex. weight training, walking, cycling) at least semi-regularly. I was slowly coming around to the idea that exercise was important and worthwhile, even if I would never be a natural athlete. Over the years, I did a few runs but still found it to be a painful and largely embarrassing endeavour.
The fourth time I tried running was in the last year of my undergraduate degree. That time, I was more methodical about using run/walk intervals and gradually building up my stamina. I might even have read up on it a bit. I stopped running after the winter mostly because I was biking to work every day.
The fifth and final time I started running was in January of 2007. I met a girl (codename: Elbows) in my statistics class whose sister was a runner. At the time, I was going to the gym regularly and using the treadmill but I did not see myself as a “runner”. (Runners were mystical creatures who practiced their sport outside, wore coordinated outfits and had 2% body fat). Elbows convinced me to sign up for the Ottawa race weekend 5km as a way to give us a goal to work towards. At this point, the idea of setting an athletic goal for a non-athlete such as myself seemed faintly ridiculous. Once again, I started with 1:1 run/walk intervals and built from there. Even though Elbows fell sick and was unable to run, I ran the race anyway (largely because I had paid $30 for the privilege). And it was amazing. The last 500m of the race was probably one of the more painful but exhilarating experiences of my life. Painful because my side stitch had blossomed into full-abdominal cramping. Exhilarating because I was running down that road alongside hundreds of other runners with a cheering crowd lined up three-deep.
And that’s how I got hooked. That race converted me from running dilettante to extremely-slow-but-dedicated runner.
How did you start running? Did it take more than one attempt? Was there an “a-ha” moment when you suddenly realized you were a runner?
January 10th, 2011 at 11:16 am
Funny…My experience was remarkably similar in that it took me about a bazillion tries over a long period of time. I didn’t have any peer pressure though – the bizzare thing for me was that I really wanted to run! To this day I have no idea why. I mean, I know why I run now, but have no idea why I wanted to run then!
January 10th, 2011 at 9:02 pm
How come I don’t remember our grade 9 class signing up for race weekend? Did I participate?
On a more pertinent note, I think it took me a number of tries over three different summers before running really clicked for me. For some reason third time was a charm. I did my first ever 5km race that summer, with much encouragement from the Shuffler