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I am a runner.
I am a runner.
I feel confident in claiming this identity not because I have the hard-earned t-shirts in my bottom drawer - one from a two-mile fun run, one from a 5K - nor because I have my eye on my next 5K (It's called Run With Wolfes, you guys), nor because I own actualfax running shoes and love them quite irrationally. I'm sure I can call myself a runner because I got out of bed on the Sunday of
vividcon, got out of bed and ate a Clif bar and then went down to the fitness center and ran for fifty-two minutes on a treadmill.
On VividCon Sunday, you guys.
I've been noticing, lately, that I don't resist running--that I in fact resist having my running schedule disrupted. In July, while off in the wilds of West Michigan for a few days with my family, I got up and went out and ran on the dirt roads around the camp. Twice! I developed a standard route!
resonant's post about yoga made me think of this, partly because it echoes a lot of the ways I feel about running--mostly the wish that someone would have told me a lot sooner that I could do this, if I just went slowly and was patient with the process of getting stronger.
Part of it is different, though. I am a runner, but I'm still not at all sure that I actually like running. It's sort of, you know, boring. And repetitive. And physically unpleasant. I spent most of today's run staring at my watch, telling myself I could drop to a walk in just another minute if I really had to. I occasionally have moments of feeling like I've hit my stride, like everything has fallen into place and running is, for a stretch, easy. But I've rarely, if ever, experienced a runner's high. It's not really fun, although I keep hoping that it someday will be, when I'm stronger and faster and better.
But I'm a runner anyway: because neither of my parents made it to their sixty-second birthday without coronary bypass surgery; because it's good to do just one thing for an hour three times a week; because I have a perverse love for those post-run muscle twitches in my quads, like a car pinging as it cools; because I get to listen to podcasts and audio books. Because I want to keep getting better at it. Because I can.
I feel confident in claiming this identity not because I have the hard-earned t-shirts in my bottom drawer - one from a two-mile fun run, one from a 5K - nor because I have my eye on my next 5K (It's called Run With Wolfes, you guys), nor because I own actualfax running shoes and love them quite irrationally. I'm sure I can call myself a runner because I got out of bed on the Sunday of
On VividCon Sunday, you guys.
I've been noticing, lately, that I don't resist running--that I in fact resist having my running schedule disrupted. In July, while off in the wilds of West Michigan for a few days with my family, I got up and went out and ran on the dirt roads around the camp. Twice! I developed a standard route!
Part of it is different, though. I am a runner, but I'm still not at all sure that I actually like running. It's sort of, you know, boring. And repetitive. And physically unpleasant. I spent most of today's run staring at my watch, telling myself I could drop to a walk in just another minute if I really had to. I occasionally have moments of feeling like I've hit my stride, like everything has fallen into place and running is, for a stretch, easy. But I've rarely, if ever, experienced a runner's high. It's not really fun, although I keep hoping that it someday will be, when I'm stronger and faster and better.
But I'm a runner anyway: because neither of my parents made it to their sixty-second birthday without coronary bypass surgery; because it's good to do just one thing for an hour three times a week; because I have a perverse love for those post-run muscle twitches in my quads, like a car pinging as it cools; because I get to listen to podcasts and audio books. Because I want to keep getting better at it. Because I can.

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Yay you!
I'm going to be down in Chicagoland for Thanksgiving (well, western Cook County), so I've been poking around looking for Turkey Trots in the area. Are you doing one of those?
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I combat boredom while running with SERIOUS RUNNING MUSIC. (I get bored and impatient with audiobooks, and Night Vale's the only podcast I really listen to.) I make a careful running playlist based on how long I am to be running (and what pace I want to go at for what length of time and so on), and it is full of Rihanna and Queen and Lady Gaga and My Chemical Romance and so on. Also I run in places with nice stuff to look at. ALL THE ADVICE I HAVE.
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Music doesn't really alleviate boredom for me--I constantly listen to music, so I automatically tune it out to some extent, and it doesn't occupy my thoughts. When I was doing more run/walk intervals I tended to be able to just Think About The Running while running, but now that it's just this one long go, I get bored. I'm listening my way through Welcome to Night Vale again right now, and then I've got a Terry Pratchett novel. After that, possibly I start listening my way through all the Vorkosigan books or else it's time to listen through The Student Prince again, idk.
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The part that resonates most with me is "because I have a perverse love for those post-run muscle twitches in my quads, like a car pinging as it cools"; on those rare occasions when I've gotten into the habit of exercising, the post-workout satisfaction of "I moved my body and it liked it, and I like how that feels" was what kept me going.
Now I just have to fit it back into my life.
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And, yeah, I have the good fortune of a slightly wonky work schedule, so that I can often do my three runs a week on days I either don't have to work or don't have to work until 11:30. That makes it a bit easier for me.
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I knew the good twin was a runner when she ran the morning of her wedding day to relax.
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(It's a run benefitting brain cancer research, founded by a family named Wolfe in honor of their son--a cause rather dear to my heart. Also, WOLVES.)
I am already looking forward to going down to the Lake to run for an hour the morning after moving day. Which is in two weeks, oh god. o.O
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I still have weird issues about saying "I am a runner," even though I've been doing it pretty seriously for three years now, ran a 10k and a 10 mile last year, and am hoping to run a half marathon in October. I think because I'm slow and I don't look like the image of "a runner" I have in my head. Your post is inspiring me to get over all that, though!
Happy trails!
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I also have discovered that exercise is a wonderful thing to have in my arsenal at cons when I inevitably wake up hours before other people and have to kill time SOMEHOW. Plus, having exercised makes my body happier about sitting in chairs the rest of the day.
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There are definitely times when I feel a bit more WOO YAY GOOD RUN afterward than others. Not too many when I stagger in all exhausted and miserable, thankfully. :)
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(I agree with you, FWIW, re: not actually liking running. I like having done it, I like being a person who does it, but most of the time I only ever enjoy it after the fact.)
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I love this comment! ♥ And I hope the tailing end of the move is going well.
And, yeah, I've kind of come to accept that I like all the stuff about running, if not the running itself--it's actually what makes it sort of a surprising realization for me that I don't have to talk myself into it on running days anymore. But I guess I've internalized that this is what I do on Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday mornings. *g*
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Gosh, I need to get back to running. Now that I live in a place where there is a park, this will hopefully be significantly easier!
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