Me, finishing my first 5K on 7/4/10. Notice that I'm running just slightly faster than the 7-year-old boy behind me.
Part 1 of this article can be found here.
After my 27-year break from running (if you can call it that), I started seriously running in 2007 at age 33.
Lesson #1: I love to be outside.
After years in the gym or Pilates studio, it came as a pleasant surprise to realize that I loved to be outdoors. I particularly love sunrise runs, but I don’t get to do them as often as I’d like due to family scheduling logistics.
Lesson #2: If it hurts, I’m not doing it right.
I used to be a heel-striker. If you videotaped my stride, you would see my legs reaching out ahead of me, my heel absorbing all of the weight of the landing. I would get home from a run with knees, hips and back that ached. It would take several minutes of uncomfortable stretching before I could come anywhere close to being able to touch my toes. I also had a recurring case of tendonitis in my foot that seemed to be aggravated by long runs.
A must-read book.
Lesson #3: Embracing minimalist footwear.
In 2009, I read Born to Run, and something clicked. No, I haven’t gone so far as to convert to a barefoot running devotee, but I did ditch my highly structured shoes and orthotics in favor of a minimalist shoe with no supplemental arch support. I also re-learned how to run, shortening my stride and landing more on my midfoot. It’s made all the difference in the world. I haven’t had a recurrence of the tendonitis, and I no longer have the aching joints that I suffered in my heel-striking days.
Lesson #4: If I can’t run, I walk.
I haven’t yet figured out why sometimes I feel like I have wings to glide over the sidewalk, and other times I feel like I have legs made of lead. On the leaden days, I runwalk.
Lesson #5: There is no shame in walking.
I used to feel ashamed because I couldn’t run straight through. Then I realized that I was still moving faster than the bulk of people who never bothered to try. And besides, even when I run, I’m not exactly fast. I just keep moving, and I’m always glad that I did.
Lesson #6: Only one person wins.
One person wins. Maybe 10 people are contenders. The rest of us? We should be out there, enjoying ourselves. Maybe it’s not exactly a party, but it should at least be a good time. Have fun with it. Don’t take yourself so seriously. And remember, you only have to be one second faster than your best time to set a personal record!
Tags: born to run, injury, running, stride, walking
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A nice post, Alisa. I especially like the candor, very personal.
This is the key bit: “I also re-learned how to run, shortening my stride and landing more on my midfoot. It’s made all the difference in the world.” Runner’s World might run that each issue, say, as a footer on the Contents Page, as a reminder to all (good) runners everywhere.
I swear that the change was easier for me because the tendonitis had me sidelined for almost eight months prior to reading that book. Starting over from zero made it easier to re-learn my stride without the “wrong” technique clouding my muscle memory.
I also deliberately runwalked for the first several weeks. The walking breaks gave my body a chance to reset and focus on the proper stride, rather than allowing fatigue to make me sloppy. Now it’s just second nature.