Run for your Life

"I hate running." This is always my first thought when I'm tying my shoes at 6:00 in the morning. Bed is the perfect temperature, the pillow perfectly shaped to my head. The invitation to crawl back inside raised to a level of shouting. Outside, quiet. A few birds, an occasional bark from a restless dog.

Pit stop. A sip of water. Earphones. Pepper spray.

For three months I hit the pavement at least three times a week. The external motivation? A 10K race. The internal motivation? A new full-time job and a toddler. For most people, this sounds like a crazy conclusion: things are as hectic as ever, so I should start running. But I knew that if I didn't make that time count, my fitness would go down the tubes and so would my morale. When you have a two year old who's clever at moving chairs to reach whatever he has his eye on and who also likes to talk 99% of the hours he is conscious, alone time and quiet exist only in the pre-dawn moments.

I used a training schedule and tapped into two more experienced runners who took me with them for long runs on Saturday mornings. I never did remember to take a before run picture, but here's an after.

I'm so grateful for these ladies. They were with me when I set new distance records for myself. As of today, my longest run was just over 7 miles.

This morning was the big day. My boys woke up early and took me down to Sycamore, Illinois, where I ran in the 10K Pumpkin Run. My personal goal was to finish under an hour.

Sleepy, cuddly little boy at the starting line.

A wave before the gun went off.

Final Stats: 

Miles:   6.2 miles

Time:   54:45

Pace:   8:49

My relationship with running has changed. I think about it when I'm feeling stressed or over-worked. I picture myself commanding my feet to move forward. I see my breath in the morning air. I watch the sunrise and think about how thankful I am to still be moving.