Rowing and Running
I've always been of the "I'll run if someone is chasing me" variety. Growing up with asthma, I spent more time in the hospital ER than in gym class. I remember running the mile maybe once, and I can promise you I was in the bottom two or three in the class. I assure you I wasn't being picked first for any teams.
Sports was the last thing on my mind as I went into my senior year in high school, but somehow I found myself joining the local gym, City Fitness, and learned to hit the speed bag with a rhythm that made people stop and watch, and wonder. Why is this 17-year-old girl beating up on a speed bag like a prize fighter? The owner, Ruste, took notice of my efforts and taught me to hit it properly. Over the summer, I talked to Ruste on a regular basis and he asked me where I was heading for college. When I told him I would be a Bearcat at the University of Cincinnati, he suggested I give the rowing team a try. I knew less than nothing about rowing, and I shrugged and said, "OK, I'll check it out."
When I got to Cincinnati, I navigated a new town where I didn't know a soul, got a new roommate, and explored a world of potential trouble for a college freshman to get into. I visited the local clubs, got lost on the large city campus, found a kindred 80s metal fan in my friend Kristi, and met the football team quarterback. I was finding my footing as an independent adult in a transition phase.
Somehow, athletics found me and transformed me from my high school persona - yearbook editor, drama participant, pep club office, student government representative - to my college persona: jock. I don't remember my first few meetings as a member of the rowing team, but I know what happened after that. I ate, slept, lived, and breathed crew. I got up before 5 AM six days a week to be in a narrow fiberglass boat in the Ohio River by 5:30. I returned from the river muddy, muscular, triumphant, and strong. And incredibly proud.
We walked around campus with our shorts and crew jackets on - the letter jackets for our sport. We stayed up all night and raced at dawn. We ran hills and played soccer and raced 1500 meter segments on the ergometers (rowing machines) in the winter. Those "erg tests" in which we would race each other on the machines for the best times were brutal. We would quite literally fall off the ergs when we were done, heaving rib cages and pouring sweat. One thing our coach, Tim Royalty, would tell us over and over was, "You can do anything for six minutes."
Now, I tell myself that when I'm struggling through an interval on my couch to 5K program. You can do anything for two minutes. You can do anything for four minutes... six minutes... eight minutes. I focus on my form, just as I did in the sculls on the Ohio. If I concentrate on my body, I won't feel the pain as acutely. I was tuned into our coxswain during the races: come on, women, you can do this. Power ten. University of Virginia at the two seat on the starboard side. Do it!
Since I had my son two and a half years ago, I have been neglecting fitness entirely (unless you count chasing a toddler as consistent exercise). I needed to find a way to get back in shape and my brother-in-law, a bodybuilder, suggested I set a goal. I can't get back into rowing right now with my son so small... it takes too much time, especially with all the business travel I'm doing. I definitely don't see myself as a bodybuilder. A race made sense. I almost fell over when I realized what I was contemplating. I hated to run. And then I started reading about the running journey of my friend Kim, and other friends suggested I read Born to Run.
Something happened to me. I started to look forward to running and pushing myself. I am barely running a whole mile in a row, but I am PROUD to run that distance. The iPod was set aside, and now I listen to the sound of my footfalls... the wind whistling in my ears... the birds chirping around me. A side benefit: I can't run away from my worries, but I can mute them for a few minutes.
When possible, I run toward my shadow and I watch her run with me, a silent companion on this journey to my first 5K. She encourages me to run with good posture and cadence, and we count the steps together.
I will not have the fastest time at the race on March 31, but I will finish.
And then I'll set my next goal. Tough Mudder, anyone?