I’m not qualified enough to write about running on its own. I’m a spotty recreational runner at best and I’m certainly not known for my consistency and discipline in this arena. If anyone other than Paul were keeping track of my race sign ups versus race completions I might be a tad embarrassed. Over the years I’ve had some good runs, a few bad ones, and a short season of 3 halves in 5 weeks that I’m exceedingly proud of. Today I completed a run that should stack up as one of my easiest, but instead holds the title as one of my toughest.
I signed up for the Doha College 5k earlier this week. It was on a bit of whim-we’ve had a good start to life here in Qatar, but often a working on a solid start during a time of transition leaves other areas neglected. Unfortunately this time, in the life lotto, the winning (losing?) area has been my physical health. I’ve never, ever been a wiry greyhound-like runner (the massive laugh I had just typing that reminds how far away that is from my reality), but I’ve always gotten the job done when it counted. The last year of stress and moving has brought me closer to the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man than I’m really comfortable with and the only running these days I’m doing is under the cover of darkness.
I haven’t run a race other than a 5k in 18 months.
It’s not a place I want to continue to be.
And so, I found the closest, shortest run I could find and made it a priority to get to the starting line. It’s almost as if running is my reset button and I know that when things have totally slid out of control that’s my lifeline. And so, this morning I ran a race.
Is there a non-awkward way to take a selfie? I’m going to go with no.
It wasn’t pretty and I wasn’t fast. But I was there.
And that’s what counts.