I have never been a “runner.” Like, I was that girl during middle and high school who made any excuse not to run during P.E. I once went to the chiropractor and tried to use my back alignment to get out of doing the Mile Run (it didn’t work). It wasn’t like I was “unhealthy” – I was maybe a little chubby in early high school (certainly no more than I am now), and even in high school when I lost around 40 pounds, I still couldn't run because it turns out you need to eat food for that. Running in front of other people was only a little bit embarrassing, but I was never the last person in, so I really didn’t mind.
In college, I didn’t really exercise until I started dating J - a cross-country runner - and even then, I didn't go running right away. I lost weight at the beginning of the relationship (nervous weight? Anyone else have that issue?), but I still wasn’t “fit” by any means. I was healthier than I had been - I was eating better, snacking less, and moving more, though mostly due to a really hectic schedule - but I only went running once or twice that year, in the dark. I saw a raccoon crawl out of a gutter once and it was terrifying but also really cool.
When I graduated college and moved in with J in Iowa City, my habits changed dramatically. I was gaining weight at a record pace due to feeding both of us and feeling “encouraged” by his hefty boy portions which he was running it off without even thinking. I was just learning to cook – trying out unhealthy but delicious family recipes, still figuring out what worked for both of us and our bodies and our budget.
We lived in this tiny apartment, but it was right next to this lovely trail that went all around Coralville. J encouraged me to try running with him. It was a disaster. I have no idea why, but I turn into a total baby when I run with him. Every time I run with him, my pace sucks, I whine, and I feel terribly guilty for feeling like I ruined the run for him. So I started running on my own, and I started loving it. I was still averaging a 12:30 mile, but I was going more than one mile at a time for the first time in my life. J gave me tips, and my pace and distance improved. I began running 2.5 miles pretty regularly, and finally made it to 3.1 miles one day. I was so proud of myself! A few months later, J and I did a community race together and I ran just around 5.4 miles – by far the most I had ever run (or have ever ran) at one time.
