I run. I never intended on running. I at no time ever thought that I would classify myself as a runner. I really didn't like it when I started, and I liked it even less for the first year I was in it.
I started running as a result of being called "fat" the first time I met my ex's sister. Being called fat is one thing, but when the person doing the name calling has never spoken to you or seen you before, this was a pretty crushing blow to not only my ego, but my own self respect and esteem. She also had (and more than likely still has) some choice other names for me already picked out, but that's another story.
I signed myself up for the Learn to Run Women's Only 5km clinic at the Namao Centre Running Room...and finished the 10 week course and participated in my first race on St Patrick's day. I was on tap to finish in under 35 minutes (a incredibly respectable time for your first race), and then I slipped and fell on the ice. I hobbled back in with a time of 41 minutes. My ex patted me on the shoulder and said that I would do better next time, and that I should watch out for better footing too. Saying that I was even more deflated at this point is an understatement.
Fast forward a year and a half, and I was training for my very first half marathon, on my own. I was still with the Running Room, and training other ladies on how to run their first 5km race. I was training through injuries, because I seriously had no idea what I was doing...and I certainly had no clue about nutrition during the run either.
Cue up race day: I had a few acquaintances that I ran into at the race. All of them gave me a hug, including my boss (who I had known about 3 weeks at that point). My ex was missing in action. I think he volunteered for duty or something, I cannot quite recall, but again, I was seriously deflated. I was nervous, injured and I was thinking that I was crazy for trying to do this on my own.
My injuries got the best of me just a little over the 3/4 mark during the race and I had to walk the rest of the way in...I tried my best to increase my speed up to a hobble, but the pain in my leg was unthinkable. I did my best when crossing the finish line, and after getting my medal I turned to my right and there were all the acquaintances from the Running Room lined up against the fence, waving and cheering. One of the ladies called me over, wanting to give me a hug, I said that I would walk around the fence...giving me the mom tone she said "No right here, right now".
To this day, I have not had a more amazing hug. I cannot explain what it felt like to have someone at the finish line, regardless of the fact if they knew you well or not, know that you gave it your best and hugged it out with you at the end. Writing this now, I am honestly starting to get choked up a little bit.
Fast forward another year. I have finished 1 full marathon, and 3 more half marathons since that hug. At all of them, there was someone I either knew, or sorta knew that gave me a hug at the end of the race. Each hug held a different meaning. Each one special in their own right.
I have 2 more races coming up this year.
One in Edmonton, a half marathon, and this one I am hoping to convince a few friends to come out to watch me cross the finish line. And the other is a full marathon in Savannah GA. This race, I am having a hard time getting into the mindset of it, and its mainly because I am going by myself, with no guarantee of a hug. And this scares the crap right out of me. It scared me so much that I got seriously turned around in the River Valley tonight on what was supposed to be a 10km run, which turned into a 16km run instead. The river valley runs East/West, getting turned around in it is kinda hard lol. Please refer to my post on "Moments of Greatness" cause this mos def qualifies.
But in all seriousness, the hug IS THE KEY to my training, how is one supposed to mentally prepare for the absence of it?
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