I never thought myself a runner, but I saw people on the street running past my house, and the people in the magazines for running who finished incredible distances and I was jealous. When I was graduating I had to update my resume, and I thought to myself that it would be great to put 'marathon runner' under extra activities. The only problem was that I was not a marathoner. Yet.
I did the research and found my new obsession. After I registered for my very first half marathon in NYC I had no choice but start training. I had five weeks. From the moment I started the training to this day I continue to indulge in lessons God teaches me through running.
Lesson one, - you can't do something you always wanted to do unless you start. So I registered.
I am not the first one to work in order to live a life, so a full time job with 60 hour work weeks would never stand in the way of something I am passionate about. So to all of you who run, if you see me on the streets of Rochester make sure to give me a high five, and those who can't run, I'll think of you so cheer me on Facebook.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
I did not know that I had legs made for running. I would not have known if I didnt just go for a run one day, and then another time agian, and again. In fact, I found out that I can run after my first half marathon.
It seemed like nothing was going right for me. If you believe in karma or luch, or whatever, you would think that missing the flight is bad luck. Even more so when you come to the gate and they let the person in front of you in and close the door when you are fifteen feet away from the gate. That’s just wrong, right? Nothing went right that day, and so I started out my adventure.
Exhaustion and that feeling that with every move your muscles are vaporizing filled more than my body, it got to my mind. I was on the .1 of the 13.1 race in NYC and I felt my strenght leave me. I ran towards the finish line, people cheering, someone read out my and I saw my body cross the finish line.
For so long I lived with the mindset that I am the one who fails, and the one who does everything backwards. When the tears clenched my throat very unexpectantly I also came back into the reality as I took the finishers’ medal around my neck. “What the heck did I just do?” was my first thought.
I swallowed the storm behind my eyes and soacked in everything in front of me. A line through the tent with food - boxes of bananas, bagels (they are the best in NYC, I promise), energy water and granola bars; as I packed two bananas to refuel I went to get my things. There was no one there for me at the finish line, there was no one cheering for me to finish strong, and there was no one there when I crossed into the realm of following my dreams.
At the time of my walking through the park and enjoying the atmosphere. You know that something special is in the air because no matter who you are you celebrate. There are no strangers, the levels of people heirarchy are broken down by the common denominator of a race. You say congradulations to anyone you see, just because you know that they know the feeling of crossing the finish line.
This day was the beginning of my journey. Little did I know that when I cross that line I will never be the same. I walked back to the train station with hundreds of people to take the train from the little park in Queens back to Manhattan. It’s beautiful to see so many sweaty smiles, and so many conversations on the subway just because of the t-shirt and the bib and the medal around your neck.
The trip to NYC and the race registered numerous memories and countless moments of pure blissfull adrenalin rush. The experience of travel and running brings something out in people; like a common ground which equals to new friendships.
After the race I met a young man, after a quick conversation we became friends on facebook. This young man is a great runner, has many races under his sneakers, travels all the time as he is an engeneer.
On the train I also met a fellow who ran his very first half marathon and was preparing for another one next month (as was I). We talked for a little about our running experiences and he got off the train. About two weeks later I recieved a message on facebook from him about my poetry. Who knows how but he found my poetry blog and commented on one of the poems that had a significant meaning to him when he was in college and researched the poet by whom came the title of my poem (“Water water everywhere not a drop to drink”). These two are among many unique individual experiences I had.
The running is addicting. A race with thousands of people is even more addicting. The experience from travel and discovery of new place to meeting random people is only adding to my adiction of this kind of adventure.
In my world, I save a life. I plan to save a life through running. Running is like marriage, it’s complicated and challenging. It’s like an affair, exciting and dangerous. It’s like a desease, it sticks no matter what and requires attention.
Running is my addiction. The discipline and the time it takes teach me lessons. When I run I see clearer and the vision of the trails in front of me clears up into confidence of arrival at my destination.
Running saved my life. It is my school of education after college. Part of this dream is to let running change me so much that in turn it would save somone elses’ life next to me.