It was my 25th birthday and I was sitting in a spa with my youngest half-sister. The esthetician applying my facial was inquiring if I had met all of my first quarter goals. I was smiling and nodding along as she was remembering her 25th birthday, and how devastated she was that she didn’t have a house, or a husband… or even a decent job at that age. I said nothing but my mind was racing… Goals? I was supposed to set goals? Shit. No one said anything about goals! I had none of those things either! My job was decent- but not one that I wanted to have for the rest of my life. I had a boyfriend, but what if I didn’t want to get married…. ever??? I have to get married???? What???? I left that appointment less concerned about my skin, and more concerned with my lack of direction and accomplishment. WTF? We were supposed to set goals??
I wasn’t in bad shape. I had always been VERY aware of my weight- and I actually enjoyed working out so it was only logical that the first goal that I should set should be to run a marathon…. But, since I wasn’t currently running, I should give myself time to work up to it. I decided to run a marathon before I turned 30. That’s logical, right? A marathon is far. 5 years sounds about right for build up. Why not?
I looked into some running classes. I was starting to run a little but my lungs would burn and I couldn’t get very far before giving up. I suppose I should stop smoking too. Hmmmm…. But I was smoking instead of eating so how would that work? I’ll deal with that when I get hungry. Let’s stop smoking first. I don’t think marathon runners smoke.
Quitting was actually pretty easy. I wasn’t as dedicated to smoking as many others are, so I was quickly able to trade in my cigarettes for twizzlers because that’s basically the same thing. My car started to smell much better, I was more productive and my lungs stopped burning as much. YAY!
One day at the pool before my weekly water aerobics class, my bestie looked at me and said, “What’s up with your giant boobs??” What WAS up with my giant boobs? Where did they come from? And come to think of it, why did I throw up during step aerobics last week? (For the record- I still freaking LOVE step aerobics) I better go see my doctor. I might be dying.
I wasn’t dying. But close. I was pregnant.
Huh? That wasn’t a goal. That shouldn’t be happening. I don’t have a house, a husband or my dream career…… but I will have that Big Mac thank you. I’m eating for two now. My pregnancy was the longest pregnancy on record and I didn’t make it to that running class. In fact, the only place that I made it to was Baskin Robbins because clearly the baby needed it. When all was said and done, I had gained 70 pounds in my first pregnancy. WTF. That wasn’t a goal either.
My son was perfect. A tad on the large size, but with all the ice cream and Big Macs that he was eating it’s not really a surprise. Save your judgement for yourself- I had no idea what I was doing. I hadn’t done any pregnancy research. I wasn’t concerned with weight gain because I didn’t plan on being overweight forever, and I used this time to eat ALL the things that I denied myself in my non-pregnant life. So now I had a baby that never wanted to be put down and about 50 pounds to lose. What do I do???
I bought a book on running and a baby jogger. The first day I didn’t make it to the end of the driveway. But I kept going. Every day.
It was hard.
It really sucked.
This is really the worst part of running. The beginning. It feels so defeating… But as you persevere and push through, you start to see changes. You feel less like you are going to die and more like you may actually live! I was now ready for my first race. A 5K. It sounds so far…. but I think I’m ready. A trail race. Perfect. No one will see me. Love it.
Race Day…. I’m so nervous. I barely slept last night. I get my boyfriend to drive me to the race- no he can’t stay and watch- he has to go home and wait for my call to come back and get me. How long will it take? I don’t know, I’ve never done this before. Stop asking so many dumb questions!!!!
The race starts and I feel great. I’m doing it! I’m actually doing it! This is fun! I feel amazing! I am passing people, I am smiling, I am having an awesome time. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, running is amazing. It’s the best feeling EVER!!!!
I’m tired. How much longer? Just around the corner? Which corner?? The sun is too hot. Shut up birds, I’m trying to focus!!! Ok- There is the finish line… I speed up. I’m done. Wow… That was exhilarating.
I call for my ride but he’s not home yet from dropping me off so I sit on a hill and I watch people crossing the finish line. If you ever have the opportunity, volunteer at a finish line. It is so full of emotion. People crying, laughing, realizing their dreams. This is where it all becomes real. Suddenly, a man comes around the corner and he is full on sprinting.
People start cheering and calling out his name, “Go DARCY!!” Everyone is really excited…. but why? What’s the big deal about Darcy? I finished like when? 20 minutes ago, and no one yelled my name or freaked out like this. He must be a special athlete… like, a crowd favourite. Or he’s overcome some huge monumental struggle to be able to complete this 5K. So I start clapping too.
“Good Job,” I say as he walks past me. I’m thinking that he looks pretty fit to be 20 minutes behind me at a 5K. Maybe I’m better at this that I thought. Maybe I’ll do a 10K next???
There’s my ride. Finally. (Insert eye roll.)
5 years later I told this story to a running friend of mine. After he was able to stop laughing and compose himself, he pointed out that Darcy (who was a legend in the local running community) had in fact set a course record that year for the half marathon… that had started 30 minutes before my 5K.
Oh… Ya… Ok… That makes more sense. (Insert eye roll.)
somethingaboutshawna 
Recent Comments