A final (for now) note about having been a runner

This blog is about to become all about recovery from surgery, rehab, pain control, and getting back to walking because, while this blog has many purposes (therapeutic venting, information sharing, thoughts on topics others might find interesting...), I also want it to be a resource for others who have the same/similar combination of surgeries I am about to have. 

So I thought, before it gets all surgical, I would back up to the beginning...well my “being a runner” beginning. 

I wrote a post a while back (my first I think) about the day my running ended. I included a sad picture of me. I ugly cried on that run. It was hard to believe that something that was such a huge part of my life and identity, was over. But how did it start?  What started this obsession passion? If it’s not a question you had, you can stop reading now. 

Anyone still reading?

Anyone?

Ok, so I think I’ve got running on my brain because we are experiencing the perfect running weather right now, and fall running/racing was my favorite. 

 I also just made a book for myself with all of my favorite pictures I’ve ever taken while out running (thank goodness for smart phones!!!). Thankfully Shutterfly had a sale that included unlimited free pages and discounts galore...so here you have 90 pages of my favorite Philly running pictures. I was hoping it would come out decent. Even ok would be fine. 

Instead it is perfection. 

Perfection!!! 

I love it. 

So, yeah, running on the brain.

 

Ok, back to what I was talking about...

I didn’t always love running. In fact I spent much of my life hating it. I was well aware that I was not fast and that I had poor endurance. Running felt like torture. I also knew that I was (am still) not built like runners are stereotypically portrayed. In fact, I think I subconsciously SUCKED as a batter in softball because I didn’t want to run around the bases!  

In all honesty and with full disclosure, I started running as part of a dangerous and self-destructive disease process. I was anorexic in a serious way, and running was a way to burn the calories that I did eat. So at 15 years old, I started running the loop around my neighborhood. I ran more loops to burn more calories. I have no idea my mileage or pace. It didn’t matter really. Each loop equated to (in my diseased brain) a bite of food...any food. 

I hated running. 

I hated feeling parts of my body jiggle and shake with every step. I hated feeling like I was going to pass out. I hated being so sweaty. 

I hated running.

I was hospitalized twice on an inpatient eating disorder floor at a psychiatric hospital because of how sick I became with my disease. In the hospital, exercise was discouraged, even punished. I also started smoking while inpatient. It’s a long story, and smoking is not something I’m proud of, but I was a smoker at 16. Awesome right?  Crazy to think I turned into an ultra-running/healthy weighted adult...

Once I was discharged for good, the focus was on eating the calories, drinking the water, getting weighed, and doing therapy sessions.  Exercising would mean I was trying to burn calories. I was not taught how to exercise in a healthy way, so I just didn’t do it. But, my disordered running beginnings, at the very least, taught me that I could run. 

So technically, that’s the beginning. Running to lose weight as part of a destructive disease process...

But. 

Fast forward to many years after that when I quit smoking (eventually) and was running occasionally...and still not loving it, but NOT hating it. I trained for and ran my first marathon in 2008, just before my 30th birthday, and while it was then that I started to consider myself a runner, I still wasn’t good at it. The marathon training taught me that I could run long distances and not get carried away with calorie burning and obsessive weight tracking though. I actually gained some weight (muscle weight likely) in the process.

Running didn’t become part of my life, part of my everyday, until after my second son was born though. He was a HARD baby. And a HARD toddler. His nickname was Voldemort. And it fit him. I started going running to get the hell out of the house and, honestly, away from him. 

***don't get me wrong, I love him to pieces, and always did, but I’m being as real as I can be when I say that he was a hard kid to parent for a solid 4 years, and I needed the time to myself***

So starting in 2009, I ran regularly. And I started liking it. Then I started loving it. Then I started meeting runners who felt the same way and also didn’t fit the “typical runner” look, and my whole perspective shifted...

‘If you run, you’re a runner’

And I believe that wholeheartedly. 

After recovering from my ACL surgery in 2011, I started tracking my miles, and pace, and ran more races each year. 2013 is when things really started to take shape for me with running, and my distances and goals and pace became grander with each passing year. 

So while I’ve had a tumultuous and inconsistent relationship with running, the past 4 years were solid and impactful and therapeutic. It’s ironic that I started running for such harmful reasons, when it has been running that has had the greatest impact on how I feel about my body today. I learned from running how to fuel my body in order to achieve my goals. I learned from running that if I set a goal and put the work in, I can and will achieve that goal. 

And now, I’m not-so-patiently waiting to dive into another love affair that will leave me mentally and physically fulfilled!