Middle Distance Runner

Veronica is In a Relationship with Running and It's Complicated.

I won't say I hated cross country, as that seems too strong a term.  Rather, I actively disliked it.  I knew I could never make the varsity team - instead after two seasons, I received what most, including myself, disparagingly referred to as a 'mercy letter'.  My dad told me to view the sport as a way to keep in shape for track, but truthfully it was difficult for me to maintain that mindset.

Track, on the other hand, was a sheer delight.  I competed in a variety of events during my high school career, but it was the 400m dash and the 4x400m relay that gained me a spot on the varsity team my freshman year.  I have so many fantastic memories with friends, of hot, muggy runs, inside jokes, and spending entire days at invitationals.

After going off to Cornell, I focused primarily on my studies (my grades there weren't too hot to begin with; I shudder to think what they might have been if I had attempted to balance school and a part-time job with an extracurricular.)  and elected not to join the track or cross country teams.  My college roommate also ran in high school, so we began freshman year with intermittent runs, including a memorable 2 AM run on Halloween night, and a grand total of one road race.

After college, I ran sporadically, and each run followed the same pattern:

At the start - this is GREAT!  I was born to run.

1 mile in - OH GOD EVERYTHING IS RUINED FOREVER

The next day, I'd be sore, but tell myself that was the worst I would feel, because I'd start running regularly this time, dammit! It could only get better from there.

Except it didn't.  I didn't.  My dedication rarely lasted more than a week or two.  And now, well.  It's been (just) over a year since I've done an actual, proper run.  Parts of my body still haven't forgiven me for the pregnancy, let alone the following surgery and accompanying (and ongoing...forever ongoing) sleep deprivation.

But this past Friday, a coworker lost her sister at age 41.  And it dawned on me that I will be 41 in thirteen short years.  I am nowhere near ready to check out yet.  With that epiphany, I've decided to revamp both my diet (which admittedly, has been quite terrible at times since my son's birth) and my (lack of an) exercise program.  I know it won't be easy.  And I know things can happen with your health that are completely beyond your control.  But I also know there are things you can do to make your life a lot healthier, and more comfortable as a result.

Most importantly, Finn needs me.

I know I won't always be able to outrun him, but I'll be damned if he doesn't have to work for it.