Let me make it clear: I am not a runner.  Sure, there was that ambitious period several years ago when I was about 15 pounds lighter, and I did a handful of 5Ks and jog-walked a half marathon.

But for the majority of my 43 years, I most definitely have not been a runner.  For some reason, however, when the signs began to go up around town advertising the FRESH 15 — a 15K (9.3 miles) and a 5K (3.1 miles) run through Hollytree and beyond, coming up on March 1 — I felt a strong urge to participate.  And not just in the 5K, but in the (gulp) 15K.

“Can you run one mile?” asked my husband, who happens to be an accomplished marathon runner.

“Maybe,” I said.  “I think so.”

It was the first week of January, and he sat down with a calendar and a pencil, crun-ched some numbers for a few minutes, and looked up with a smile, “You can totally do this.”

And so I began training: On Jan. 4, 7 and 9, I ran one mile. On Jan. 11, I ran two miles.Each weekend since then, I have added one mile to my longest distance, and during the weekdays, I jog low mileage, two or three times.

From the beginning, my husband assured me that, if I stick to the “conservatively ambitious” schedule he designed, I can be ready to run 9.3 miles March 1.  

Still, every Saturday morning, as I prepare to tackle the next bite of training, I doubt that it’s possible.  And every Saturday afternoon, after I have accomplished my goal, I jump up and down with delight that I actually did it.

I find that, as I get out there and put one foot in front of the other, I am not just improving my fitness and preparing for a race, I am actually learning more about life and about myself.  

For example, this idea that: If you try, you might surprise yourself.  The only real confidence I’ve had in attempting each long run is telling myself, “Well, you did run five miles last time, and you didn’t think you could.  So, who knows?”  And this is a profound reminder that what we’ve already done, determines what we can do now.  We are constantly laying the foundations on which we build the next stories of our lives. 

Here are some other things I’ve been thinking about, as I attempt to go from 0 to 15k:

Starting is the hardest part.  The greatest challenge is simply to begin, to get out there.  And then the first mile or two are a process of finding your legs and settling in.  Just like challenges in life, it can take awhile to get your bearings, but don’t give up too soon.  If you just start, what is difficult soon becomes easier. 

Find what motivates you.  I’ve realized how important it is for me to operate authentically from my own motivation.  We are all motivated by different things.  Some people need the challenge of achievement, of setting and reaching a goal through discipline — “I said I would do this, and I did.”

Some people are motivated by tangible rewards like money or trophies, while some are more driven for social rewards like respect and attention from others.  Some people thrive on pure competition.  The thing that keeps me engaged is curiosity and fun.

If I look at running or any task as a kind of adventure, it stays fresh and compelling to me.  Knowing this about myself helps me accomplish what I need or want to do in a way that works for me. 

Rest and work are equally important.  Just like the notes and the silent spaces are necessary for creating music, the effort in running and in life must be balanced by rest.  My husband insisted that I trust him on this, and now I see for myself that the days I DON’T run are just as important in my training as the days that I do run.  Following this wisdom, I have remained healthy and injury-free, even while tackling a pretty big task in preparing for this race. 

Hills are our friends.  They may challenge us beyond what we think we can bear, but every hill we meet with courage makes us stronger.  And it is a fact that what goes up must come down.  No hill lasts forever, and you can bet there is a plateau or a sweet downward slope just over the crest and out of sight.  As soon as you reach the top, your whole being knows it, and all that struggle and discomfort drops away almost immediately.  Thank your hills.

And another thing about hills:  The terrain is more hilly on foot than it seems when you’re traveling in a vehicle.  I had no idea my neighborhood was not basically flat until I began to traverse it on my legs.  This got me thinking how we sometimes fail to consider the “hills” or the challenges in life that other people might be facing, when we are operating from the isolated comfort of our own good fortune.  It would serve us well, I believe, to acknowledge that some people are climbing hills on tired legs and to respect the effort it takes for them to just keep going.  

Sometimes it helps to look at the trees; sometimes it helps to look at the forest.  My GPS running app speaks into my ear every half mile to let me know how far and how fast I’ve gone.  This is usually encouraging information.

Sometimes, if I’m feeling fatigued, I will look ahead to a certain fencepost or stop sign and give myself permission to rest once I reach that landmark.  And sometimes, focusing on these small goals — these “trees” — is helpful.  But usually, if I can get to a place in my mind and my body where I am aware of a bigger, general picture — a “forest” — I start to relax into a more enjoyable experience.  If I consider my run as a whole, rather than as a series of challenges, I find I am happier.  Things fall into place when I shift from “doing running” to “being running.”

We rise as high as the bar we set for ourselves.  When I mentally accepted that I needed to run six miles, my experience felt basically the same as when I accepted that I needed to run two miles.  The longer mileage has been no more difficult than the shorter mileage, because it is what was necessary.  When I run shorter distances during the week, they feel as challenging as the longer, weekend runs.  At the end of each run, no matter the distance, I feel that I have done exactly as much as I could – no more, no less – because I am working within the expectations I’ve set for myself.  We are generally able to do what we believe we have to do.

Control what you can control; gracefully accept what you can’t control.  We can’t control the weather, and sometimes, despite our best efforts in running and in life, things simply don’t fall into place in the way or with the ease we want them to.  But there are things we can control.  Routines and rituals can be important.  Preparation matters.  When I know that I’ve eaten and rested well the night before, that I am hydrated and stretched, that my clothes and my music are a good fit for the day, that I have my lip balm and Kleenex at the ready, I am not only physically prepared, but my sense of security and confidence is greater.  Then, if things don’t go as I hoped, I can either identify where I might be responsible, or I can chalk it up to just one of those days and move on.   

Race day is just over a week away.  In my mind, I’m still a skeptic. I still don’t call myself a runner.  But the fact is, I’ve been running.  I have met the hills.  I have embraced the forest and the trees.  I’ve worked, rested and prepared.  I have explored my motivation.  I have started.  Again and again.  From zero, now I am very nearly at 15k.  Maybe, just maybe I am a runner after all.

 

Beth Lytle is a yoga instructor who lives in Flint. Do you have a YES! column idea? Just run it by us at yes@tylerpaper.com.