How I Got Into Running and Other Tales

**Found this October 2011 post I wrote for another blog #throwback** 

I hate running. I find it really boring and tiring.

That was my attitude about the sport more than a year ago. I could not understand how my sister, and other running buffs, could enjoy going round a block over and over again for who knows how many minutes. It seemed to me this chore was no different from the thing hamsters do with wheels. You go round and round the same place until you've had enough of it.

"Keep your arms at a 90 degree angle when you run. Swing them too." My sister played coach to my rookie attempt at running.

"Don't land on your heels when you run. Use your soles. And spring against the ground on contact as if you got springs on your feet." Wide-eyed me tried to follow the instruction while imagining that the road was a hot plate and I was this little piece of meat hopping over the burning surface.

"You gotta contract your abs while you run so you'd have better upper body and core support." I then proceeded to squeeze by tubby belly while trying not to cut off my air supply or feel constipated as I do so.

I was touched by the helpfulness of my dear sister and I continued putting in my best effort running with her as a gesture of gratitude and appreciation. But still I found the whole thing an exhausting chore.

I never ran again after that early 2010 jog with her. Well, unless you qualify the running I did when I played badminton and volleyball a year after that. And running late for work (up five flights of stairs in 2 minutes).

I egged myself to go and try to run at a July race this year. I told myself I'd do the 400 meter dash first. What could go wrong in such a short distance even if I've never run for more than a year already? I ended up doing the 3K after being told the 400m was for kids. Nope, not teenagers. Kids aged below 10. I had my pride, so I smugly took up the registrar's challenge and did the 3K (which took me all of 25 minutes to complete). I was relieved I was not the last in my division and that I managed to complete the thing. Never mind that I panted as if I ran a 10K.

Despite the cold tremors in my extremities and the pain in like most of the major muscle groups in my body, I actually found the whole effort fun. I was surprised to find myself smiling as I ran and even felt I was having a holy experience despite the heavy breathing and the lead-like sensation I felt in my limbs. I started to understand why more people are now joining races and can relate to what other enthusiasts describe as being "bitten by the running bug". The invisible powers that be of running certainly had me by the gills then. And even to this very day.

From running one race a month, I'm currently onto 2 races per month. It helps me stay motivated and keeps the running fire alive. The one I'm joining on the first Sunday of November will be my sixth one and it's an 8K (no worries...it's my second 8K anyway and I can now miraculously run continuously for more than 30 minutes). I've since graduated from 3Ks and decided to specialize in 5K and aim to do it at or under 30 minutes by this January 2012's big race (as of my last 5K , I clocked in at 38 minutes).

Ambitious? It may be that, but what's a challenge if it's not audacious while seeming attainable at the same time? I even took up a 3-month gym membership and endured running on treadmills like (again) a hamster just to improve my performance, sacrificing my preference for the road and seeing natural landscapes as I run. The rainy season and scheduling problems made it hard for me to take my running to the road when I needed to give my legs a workout.

I still run on the beat-up shoes(which have seen too many miles but still works) my sister lends me, in my Speedo swimming shorts, in socks that sport a hole, and in Triumph underwired underwear (Update: not anymore; more on this in another post). I still don't have an athletic watch, compression leggings, and a hydration system (my distances are not that long anyway). Nevertheless, I run for the joy of it and I always think that you don't really need to have all those sophisticated apparel and gear to be a better runner. Heck, even the fast Kenyans run wearing just the obligatory singlet, running shorts, and the burning desire to cross the finish line first.

It's actually nice to feel those little discomforts while I pound the pavement: the bite of the chilly morning air on the exposed parts of my skin, dry lips, minor muscle twitches here and there and sweat dripping over my forehead and eyes (a single finger flick does it). It reminds me that I'm fully alive and that I can finish the race despite those difficulties. It helps me become a more enduring and stronger runner.

I don't race to win the event itself or to outrun the others (well, I admit overtaking a couple of them gives me that nice warm feeling in my chest). I race against myself and my weaknesses. I race with and for love. The whole thing is like a prayer done in motion with all the wrong gear but with a right heart.