Running sucks. Everyone hates feeling like they can’t get enough air, feeling lactic acid build in their legs, feeling sore the next day. Running especially sucks when it feels like people are watching you. When I was in middle school, like many Texas teens, I was put into track and field. I despised knowing that the eyes of the entire crowd (probably, like, 20 people) were on me, watching me do nothing but run and lose. When I played lacrosse, my least favorite part of practice was conditioning, both because of the physical discomfort and the mental load of having to compare myself to those around me. It sucks to run 50 40-yard sprints, but it sucks more when you’re exhausted and the girl next to you is completely fine.
One day, though, I watched a YouTube video of a creator (now-cancelled, sorry) train for and run an ultramarathon. For those of you who aren’t insane, an ultramarathon is exactly what it sounds like: a race longer than a marathon, usually around 30 miles, and usually in a mountainous setting. This person was in the worst shape of their life when they decided to challenge themselves to try the race out, and I tuned in twice weekly for months as they completely transformed. After watching the race video, I remembered where they started and thought that maybe I wasn’t too far off from that point. Maybe, I thought, I could try running for much longer than I had ever considered.
I wanted to see what it was like, but I didn’t want it to feel like running usually did for me: physically taxing and mentally toxic. The most important decision I made was to move slowly. At first, it was uncomfortable; I had been molded to think a 9-minute mile was slow, and I was running them in 11. However, I also managed to run three miles without stopping. Then six, then ten. I couldn’t believe the amount of progress I was making, but also how much fun I was having. This was in the summer after my freshman year at Wellesley, which had obviously been extremely busy and demanding. When I was running, though, I had hours to listen to new music uninterrupted, and I finally spent time outside, actually observing nature. I also let myself stop frequently, like when I saw a squirrel, or wanted water, or a snack. For the first time in my life, I looked forward to runs.
That summer, I signed up for my first half-marathon. As I started running more, it started to feel much easier to go faster than I ever thought possible. I ran it in September, finishing with a time of 1 hour and 53 minutes. With my goal having been to break 2 hours, I was over the moon. The best part, though, was that even though it was an official race, and some people probably took it pretty seriously, it felt nothing like what running used to feel like for me. It was public, yes, but it was less a competition over time and more a showcase of how hard everyone had worked to be there. I was competing only with myself and the benchmark I had set. I believe the pure joy in the air on MarMon isn’t just the alcohol; it’s the thrill of people accomplishing goals that, some time ago, they never thought they could accomplish.
So, this is how to make running not suck. First, you just have to start — preferably on a nice, private trail — and start slow. No matter how sluggish it might feel, if you could hypothetically talk, that is the perfect pace to be at. Then, you have to set a goal, something attainable but that you couldn’t do without some training first. What I love most about running is that, barring injury, if you run 3-4 times a week, you will undoubtedly get closer to any given goal, no matter what. All it requires is consistency. Finally, I would really recommend that you make one of your goals a race. Whether it’s a mile, a 5K or a marathon, the energy in the air will guarantee that you fall in love with the feeling of running, and the medal won’t hurt either.
On Dec. 20, I’m going to be running my first marathon. I’m sure at about mile 18 I’ll think of this article and how I’m wrong, and running actually does suck, because my legs hurt. But at the finish line, I’m sure I’ll come back around, and later I’ll sign up for another race. Because running rocks.
Contact the editors responsible for this story: Katie McCabe and Finley Tipton
