INK PUBLIC RELATIONS

Three years ago I laced up a pair of running shoes, connected to a Nike+ and decided to become a healthier version of myself.  In April of 2007, I could not complete a mile without collapsing, out of breath.  By July 1st, I could comfortably complete a 10k (6.2 miles) and on July 16th I ran my first 5k under 30 minutes. I signed up for the Austin marathon and a little less than a year after I started running, I completed my first marathon in the slow, but completely average and acceptable time of 4:43.

I was giddy after crossing the finish line.  I cannot explain the high.  I called my older sister, who has always been a runner, but had not completed a marathon, to tell her how fabulous it went, how great I felt, how I could run another five miles and I would be fine.

And her delightful (and predictable) response was, “Well, did you really run the whole thing?  Or did you walk some?”

“Well, I walked through some water stops – it is hard to drink water and run at the same time.  And there was this one hill that beat me, I had to walk a few steps there too, but…”

“So, yeah, you didn’t really run the marathon then, huh?”

Sibling rivalry at its best.

Earlier this year my sister completed her first marathon (and she did beat my time by about 20 minutes).  First thing I asked her when she crossed the finish line (I flew to Maryland to run the Frederick half while she was running the full) was, of course, “Did you run the whole thing?  Or did you walk some?”

“I walked – I was an ass.  And this was the dumbest thing I have EVER done in my life.”

She didn’t have the same positive experience I did with my first marathon – she could not have run five more miles – no way. But I had flown all the way to Maryland to run with her, so clearly, someone owes me a favor.  This year, for the Austin marathon, which I will have to sit out due to some family expansion (my little boy is due 3 weeks prior to the gun and I hear I won’t bounce back quickly enough to bust out 13.1 or 26.2), I have recruited a ghost runner.  Blake will be running for the INK team in my place, so I can help raise money for Blue Dog – I called in her debt.

What she doesn’t know is the Austin elevation is a beast – I guarantee you the same hill that bested me will annihilate her.

Blake and I prior to the gun at the Frederick Marathon.

Teacher’s pet? Absolutely. Choir geek? You better believe it. Athlete? Oh, heck no.

The worst of all of my P.E. experiences growing up was running. I HATED running. Get this picture. Girls’ athletics. Seven in the morning (at 13 years old, it felt more like four in the morning). Humid (and for a girl with curly hair who consistently wore it straight, this was a near tragedy). And a gym teacher, who ran around the Cinnabon kiosk more times than she had ever run around a track, swinging her stopwatch around her corpulent wrist and barking orders.

My smile dropped, my brow began to sweat and the pain in my side was already starting to sear. It was time for the mile-run.

I usually sprinted the first quarter mile, walked the second quarter while gabbing with friends, maybe jogged the last two just to get it over with and get back to the locker room with enough time to spray on some Cucumber Melon body splash to disguise my failed athleticism. Thirteen minute mile? Not great. Probably at the bottom of “preferred” physical fitness. But, whatever, I’ll take it. At least it’s over.

Essentially, I hated running and couldn’t fathom why anyone, in their right mind, would want to this for (gasp) FUN?! Running is exhausting! You have to go FAST and beat the right time on Coach’s stopwatch to be a “good” runner, right?

Then, I grew up. I graduated from college and got a job and found out that my new co-workers at INK actually LIKE this running thing and began to actually ENCOURAGE me to become a runner. So, one day, after having a discussion with Beth (INK’s premier marathoner – seriously, this girl is the real deal), I decided to give the half-marathon a shot. After my first few test runs, I realized that my P.E. teacher had it all wrong. Running (or even jogging) doesn’t have to be this dreadful, exhausting, painful experience. It can actually be therapeutic, relaxing and, dare I say it, fun.

So, I am giving the half-marathon a shot, partly because I think it’s wonderful that we do this for charity (and I love dogs!), but also because I want to prove to myself that I can do it. I want to get in shape and kick my own butt. As long as I can stand on my own two feet, I want to use them (and the rest of my body) to the best of my ability. Let the training begin!

Riley, my canine inspiration.