So the other day I went running in a popular park near my parents' house. It was a gorgeous summer afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were tweeting, families were picnicking. My husband parked near one of the playgrounds to drop me off before heading over to my parents' where we would be barbecuing later. I kissed the kids in their car-seats and headed for the woods. This park has a network of trails, roads, and paths so that you can run for a few miles in the woods and still be fifty feet from a picnic table at any given time. (Hmm...that's a little creepy, now that I think about it.)
I hit "start" on my MapMyRun app and bounced past a mult-picnic-table family reunion, down a wide, rocky path, and into the woods. "Ahhh," I thought to myself, breathing in the warm scent of pine needles. "A nice afternoon for a relaxing jog." Then, out of nowhere: SWOOSH!! A flash of white and blue appeared on the trail in front of me. SWOOSH! SWOOSH! Up ahead a college student was running back and forth across the trail. Up and down the hill on either side of the trail he ran, like a pendulum, crashing through the woods as he went. I stopped dead in my tracks.
Now, I'm fairly new to the sport of running, so I can only assume that this is some newfangled type of hill repeat. For about a whole minute I stood there, mesmerized, like a Biggest Loser contestant looking at one of those balance beams with the swinging obstacles. "How am I going to get by him?" my inner-insecure-runner voice asked in a panic. "What if I time it wrong and he smashes into me?" I considered throwing out a loud, "HEY BEAR!" like my husband does when trail running to ward off potential ursine encounters.
Just when it couldn't get any more awkward, another college student ran out of the woods behind me and down the path. The trail-pendulum joined him, laughing maniacally. It was over as suddenly as it began. Now all my inner-insecure-runner voice could muster was: WTF???
With the path presumably clear ahead, I picked up my run again. What's nice about running with the MapMyRun app is that you can spontaneously pick trails and loop back on yourself while simultaneously tracking your mileage. I used this strategy to wind my way around the edges of the park, exploring grassy fields, enjoying manicured flower beds, and inadvertently spooking a canoodling couple in an isolated parking lot. (It was as awkward for me as it was for them.)
When the soothing voice on the app announced: "Distance: two-point-five miles," I decided to head for the park's main entrance to complete the remaining quarter mile back to my parents' house.
I was feeling pretty good about myself. Here I was, out for a jog on a beautiful day, heading to a barbecue where I would have license to eat pretty much whatever I wanted given my little pre-meal workout. (Okay, not WHATEVER I wanted, but it helps to tell yourself that toward the end of a run.) I jogged past a kid and his tennis coach and was about to exit the park when a black Jeep drove by me. Over the noise of crunching gravel, I heard a bunch of college guys jeering at me. (I know they were college guys because they were all wearing basketball tank-tops and backwards baseball caps.) I know they were jeering at me because the kid playing tennis was actually pretty awesome.
All of a sudden I didn't feel so good anymore. "What did you expect?" My inner-insecure-runner voice asked derisively. "You wore spandex to go running at a crowded park across the street from a State College." But miraculously, all I heard was "You go running at a crowded park across the street from a State College." That sounded oddly like something a "real" runner might do. Something my ultra-running husband, or marathon-training sister might do. Now I was a pendulum; my mood swung right back up into positive territory. I am doing this running thing! I thought back to my IIRV. And I feel so good about it that I don't care if people make fun of me! I'm not afraid anymore!
Now this may not seem like a big deal to you. Perhaps you grew out of being afraid of high school girls when you graduated high school, and college kids when you left college. But a well-dressed preschooler can still make me second guess my outfit when I drop my son off at daycare. I am very sensitive. I pretty much think people are judging me harshly ALL the time. So this was a big deal for me.
Since then, I have gone running in my neighborhood at all times of the day. Yes, I am the same person who used to think there was no good time to run. I have smiled confidently when crossing paths with other runners instead of veering down side streets just to avoid them. I don't think I look any less ridiculous stumbling around in running tights and sneakers than I did when I started running a few months ago. But at least now I own it.
When I got back to the barbecue, there were plenty of people there,whose opinions do matter to me, to tell me "good job." And guess what? I agreed with them.
I hit "start" on my MapMyRun app and bounced past a mult-picnic-table family reunion, down a wide, rocky path, and into the woods. "Ahhh," I thought to myself, breathing in the warm scent of pine needles. "A nice afternoon for a relaxing jog." Then, out of nowhere: SWOOSH!! A flash of white and blue appeared on the trail in front of me. SWOOSH! SWOOSH! Up ahead a college student was running back and forth across the trail. Up and down the hill on either side of the trail he ran, like a pendulum, crashing through the woods as he went. I stopped dead in my tracks.
Now, I'm fairly new to the sport of running, so I can only assume that this is some newfangled type of hill repeat. For about a whole minute I stood there, mesmerized, like a Biggest Loser contestant looking at one of those balance beams with the swinging obstacles. "How am I going to get by him?" my inner-insecure-runner voice asked in a panic. "What if I time it wrong and he smashes into me?" I considered throwing out a loud, "HEY BEAR!" like my husband does when trail running to ward off potential ursine encounters.
Just when it couldn't get any more awkward, another college student ran out of the woods behind me and down the path. The trail-pendulum joined him, laughing maniacally. It was over as suddenly as it began. Now all my inner-insecure-runner voice could muster was: WTF???
With the path presumably clear ahead, I picked up my run again. What's nice about running with the MapMyRun app is that you can spontaneously pick trails and loop back on yourself while simultaneously tracking your mileage. I used this strategy to wind my way around the edges of the park, exploring grassy fields, enjoying manicured flower beds, and inadvertently spooking a canoodling couple in an isolated parking lot. (It was as awkward for me as it was for them.)
When the soothing voice on the app announced: "Distance: two-point-five miles," I decided to head for the park's main entrance to complete the remaining quarter mile back to my parents' house.
I was feeling pretty good about myself. Here I was, out for a jog on a beautiful day, heading to a barbecue where I would have license to eat pretty much whatever I wanted given my little pre-meal workout. (Okay, not WHATEVER I wanted, but it helps to tell yourself that toward the end of a run.) I jogged past a kid and his tennis coach and was about to exit the park when a black Jeep drove by me. Over the noise of crunching gravel, I heard a bunch of college guys jeering at me. (I know they were college guys because they were all wearing basketball tank-tops and backwards baseball caps.) I know they were jeering at me because the kid playing tennis was actually pretty awesome.
All of a sudden I didn't feel so good anymore. "What did you expect?" My inner-insecure-runner voice asked derisively. "You wore spandex to go running at a crowded park across the street from a State College." But miraculously, all I heard was "You go running at a crowded park across the street from a State College." That sounded oddly like something a "real" runner might do. Something my ultra-running husband, or marathon-training sister might do. Now I was a pendulum; my mood swung right back up into positive territory. I am doing this running thing! I thought back to my IIRV. And I feel so good about it that I don't care if people make fun of me! I'm not afraid anymore!
Now this may not seem like a big deal to you. Perhaps you grew out of being afraid of high school girls when you graduated high school, and college kids when you left college. But a well-dressed preschooler can still make me second guess my outfit when I drop my son off at daycare. I am very sensitive. I pretty much think people are judging me harshly ALL the time. So this was a big deal for me.
Since then, I have gone running in my neighborhood at all times of the day. Yes, I am the same person who used to think there was no good time to run. I have smiled confidently when crossing paths with other runners instead of veering down side streets just to avoid them. I don't think I look any less ridiculous stumbling around in running tights and sneakers than I did when I started running a few months ago. But at least now I own it.
When I got back to the barbecue, there were plenty of people there,whose opinions do matter to me, to tell me "good job." And guess what? I agreed with them.
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