I'm a musician. I've been playing since before I could talk. Or walk, for that matter. Which is why this adventure of becoming an athlete is so foreign to me. Making music is part of my DNA. Moving my body? Not so much. I have a multitude of memories, from years and years of sitting, for hours and hours and hours, playing music. I have memory of ONE single year in my childhood that I wanted to branch out and try something different.
I was in middle school and decided that basketball might be fun. I was nick named "Little Jordan." Not because of my mad skills, but simply because I was the tallest girl in the league and could block. No real skill there. All I had to do was stand still with my hands up. I wasn't allowed to touch the ball. Really. I wasn't allowed.
Then, I thought volleyball might be fun. The coach let me on the team just because he needed another body on the court during scrimmages in practice. I never played a game. Not even one. But by golly, I was committed - learned that in my music making.
A few months after that, the track coach let me on the team for the sole reason that I survived "hell week." It was a week of pure running hell. The rule was this: if you make it to Friday without quitting, you made the team. Well, unfortunately for him, I don't know how to quit. The highlight of my athletic year was the last track meet when I came in NEXT to last. For the first time, I wasn't the best loser. And with that, I put up my Nike's and decided I made a better musician than athlete. Obviously.
I completely gave up until my 29th birthday. It hit me hard - I was almost 30! That's like half way to old! I felt like crap all the time, I hated my life, and I was 85lbs overweight - not feeling my best. So, I dug out my Nike's and started to run. Slowly. I'm talking 30seconds at a time. Yes, you heard that right, 30 seconds was the best I could do.
I'll spare you the details; here's the summary: I joined a gym for the first time in my life. Hated every second of it, but I am so glad my friend Brian brought me as a guest to his gym (I believe I lost a bet and had to go as my loser's fee). Then I met Meredith Charles. The most AWESOME trainer on this planet. She oh-so-patiently worked with me for over a year, teaching me how to move my body. And most importantly, how to squat, lunge, and lift. Ugh. Basically, she taught me how to push my body to the edge. Then I completed my first half marathon in September 2011, which led me right into a full marathon in November 2011. Now, I proudly done that pretty little 26.2 sticker on my car :-) Yes, I went from a completely sedentary life to a marathon runner in less than 2 years. Anything is possible, people. Anything.
I just happened to run into my identity as an athlete. It feeds my need for competition. It pushes me to be a better version of myself. It requires me to take a no excuses approach to life. It holds me accountable to what I put in my body. It gives me time to think through my complicated life. It introduces me to incredible people who enrich my own existence. It forces me to create balance in all parts of my life. It teaches me about myself. It fulfills and nurtures parts of my self I had neglected for a very long time. It makes me stronger.
Running saved my life. Literally. This blog is the story of my continued search for that inner, incidental athlete.
