Revolution and Evolution of a Runner

13.

For some, that’s an unlucky number. For me, that number represents revolution and evolution.

This Sunday I’ll be running the New York City Half Marathon. 13.1 glorious miles through Central Park, Times Square and on down to Wall Street.

 

When I was 39, if someone had told me that I’d be running Half #13 in 6 years, I would have laughed.

And then at age 40, I experienced a revolution. And 6 years later, as a runner, I continue to evolve.

I took those first few faltering steps as a runner, thinking to myself, what on earth are you doing? You are not an athlete. You’re too big. You have too many jiggly bits. You’ve never done anything athletic. You were always picked last for sports teams at recess. You were always hit first in dodgeball in grade school. Usually in the face.

Well, hey. I had a revolution. I put those things behind me and said I wanted to run. So I ran.

And here I am. Half Marathon #13. This fall, I’ll run my 5^th full Marathon. And complete my first Half Ironman.

I plod along at my usual 11:00 – 12:00 minute pace. Sure I’d like to be faster, but if I’m not, that’s OK. I’m still running.

My mind, along with my body, is evolving.

I used to say “I’m weak.” Now I say “I’m strong.”

I used to say “People will laugh at me.” Now I say “I’m confident.”

I used to say “I could never run a single mile.” Now I say “I’m a badass mother runner.”

I used to say “I’m afraid.” Now I say “I’m fearless.”

I run.

I’m a runner.

It’s as simple as that.