Why I Run: Judith Scott
Since Judith submitted her “Why I Run” story earlier this year, she accomplished something BIG: “My friend and running partner Wendy and I qualified for Boston, running the Baltimore Marathon in 3:53. We’ll be in Boston in 2014!!”
Running is an integral part of my life: as much as I am daughter, wife, mother, sister, and writer, I am also a RUNNER. The label is one I wear proudly, and one that gives me health, time to myself, and goals to accomplish. Running has surpassed the definition of a hobby for me and has become a pursuit that fulfills me on several levels.
But it wasn’t always this way. Quite simply, I stumbled into running as a way out of deep pain, and I came out on the other end with a strength to conquer almost any obstacle standing in my way.
Always active, but never an athlete, I spent my Midwestern youth on the softball field, a gymnastics team, and even did a brief stint on a cross-country team. As a college student and in my 20s, I became a certified aerobics instructor and spent hours issuing commands to do grapevines and step-touches. While pregnant with my first child at age 29, I was a power walker and a swimmer. But a runner? Not yet.
When my first child, a daughter, was born and subsequently diagnosed with a severe chromosomal syndrome, my carefree world ground to a halt. My days became filled with endless care-taking, many hospitalizations, horrendous stress, no sleep, and a bottomless pit of worry. My daughter struggled to do the simplest things and her development proceeded at a glacial pace. I was faced with the reality of a future for my family that I had not anticipated and this reality threatened to pull me under.
While out on a walk around the neighborhood one day, I felt burdened both by some sluggish extra weight, but mostly by the unexpected turn my life had taken. I looked up ahead at a stop sign and dared myself to run the 100 yards to get there. Winded and with sloppy form, I made it. The next day, I ran one entire block. Within a week, I was running the one-mile loop around my neighborhood without stopping once. I hadn’t felt so light in ages, nor so free.
On a lark, I signed up for a local 10K, not even knowing how far that distance was. I wore a cotton T-shirt and cotton tights, ran my heart out, sweated like never before, and finished in 48 minutes. Not bad for a beginner. That was in 1998, when my daughter had just turned two.
Since then, I have run countless 10Ks, 10-milers, half-marathons, and three full marathons. I have also had two more children along the way and a dear friend and running partner, Wendy, whom I count as another lucky blessing to come from the sport. On training runs, our laughter, singing, talk, and sometimes even tears are the byproduct of our love for each other and our love of the run.
I can’t say that running has taken away the pain of having a child with severe disabilities. But I can say with certainty that running has helped me to handle the stress of being a parent to a child who needs so much. No matter what I am training for – or even just on a fun run – I am ever mindful that there are people who can’t run, people like my own child, for whom movement is so difficult.
When I pour it all out on a race course, I try to finish with arms overhead and a smile on my face. This pose is my testament to my own hard work, yes, but also my inspiration – my child.
Why I Run: Sarah Bowen Shea + Friends
Two of the big “reasons” why I run: Molly (blue) and Kristin (purple)
I run for myriad reasons—to feel alive, to test my limits, to be outside, to listen to music without kids talking over it, to get out of the house, to not look like I eat as much as I do (a lot!)—but in the last few years, an overriding reason has been to spend time with friends. Brunch or coffee dates aren’t my scene, but more and more, I now get in my socializing on the pavement before the sun peeks over the horizon. Two of my bestest running buds are Molly and Kristin, who took on Portland’s Holiday Half on December 16. I was supposed to run it with them, but then I double-booked a family vacation. I was with them in spirit—and now you can, too, thanks to their joint race report. Enjoy!
Kristin
Six months ago, my new friend Sarah Bowen Shea caught me at a weak moment: I’d just finished a half-marathon 44 seconds shy of my goal [2:00:44]; I was susceptible to peer pressure. Sarah hugged me, smiled enthusiastically, and waxed eloquently about a mythical future race that we would do together. In this race, she would unlock the secret to achieving an under-two-hour half-marathon. As we were talking, laughing in fact, Molly walked up and was quickly swept up in the plan. Molly had already been able to attain this elusive goal with SBS but she wanted to reclaim the euphoric feeling of doing it again. It all sounded, well, doable to be honest. In the sunny, late spring weather I thought, no I knew, I could do it.
Molly
We had some great training runs. When you find people to share thoughts, ideas, plans, frustrations, and joy with over the miles, it elevates the soul. I wish that for everyone. Sarah kept us on track, watching her Garmin to make sure we stayed on pace. Kristin had a day that was hard to keep the pace, and I had a day where I barely kept the pace (and looked for every chance to stop for traffic or a red light). Both Kristin and I had doubts about how race day would go, but Sarah acted like we were in good shape for the race (she’s like that).
Kristin
Like any good OCD racer, I began checking the weather forecast 10 days in advance (and probably more than 10 times a day).
Molly
Slow pan across a crowd of elves, Santas, reindeer, and other athletic holiday types. The crowd parts as three beautiful, elfen women approach, sparkly skirts blowing in the sideways rain.
Yup, race day was cold, damp, and windy. Sarah was in Mexico. Does that even seem fair? Kristin had recruited her friend Shauna to pace us in Sarah’s absence. Shauna couldn’t have been more gracious about helping us. She is a fasty and 100 years younger than I am. But what she lacked in fat and age, she made up for in grace and encouragement. The woman had even written down the split times on waterproof paper to keep us on track. After a long line for the porta-potties, we are off.
Kristin
It’s rainy, windy and chilly, but the energy is amazing. When people cheer for each other, something happens to your feet. You get faster whether you mean to or not. We are weaving through the crowd, making our way to the middle of the pack. There are great, festive outfits everywhere, including a guy rocking an all lime green Lycra “Elf” costume–a little frightening and quite ballsy at the same time. All around us are smiles, grimaces, and the race cacophony comprised of eager chatter among friends in the beginning miles of a race. I love this sound: It’s like the hum of a hive. So much is going on and so many people have worked so hard to get to this moment. Things are good.
At Mile 4 my right quad started to give me trouble. Harumph, that’s new. Like any runner, however, I largely ignore it and keep running. Molly, in her usual style, is running so lightly on the tips of her toes she looks like a fairy princess about to tap someone with her magical fairy dust-filled wand. Although I admire her effortless style of running immensely and wish I could emulate it, it’s a tad infuriating for someone like me who lumbers along like a pregnant water buffalo.
The elves post-race: I’m thinking they look too cute to have just run their pointy ears off in pouring, driving rain. Hmmmmm…..
Anyway, there’s Molly chatting away with Shauna as if this is no effort at all; I, however, look and sound like I was running hard. But it is going well and I am still taking in the scenery when not being pelted in the face by rain. We’re on an unprotected part of the path, which allows for pretty good gusts of wind to push us around. Molly assures me the wind will be helping us when we are on the return trip, since it’s an out-and-back course.
Molly
Where in the heck is the turn around?! It seems like forever: I swear we are at Mile 126 before we finally hit the orange cone with the slick flour arrow on the pavement. Kristin says, “remember the code of the runners…” right after the turn around. No! She can’t be dropping back! Hell and damnation! I can’t turn around and run at the same time, my neck doesn’t turn well and I get nauseous, (lucky me), where is she?! Shauna says she’s right behind us. Hang in there, Kristin!
Kristin
I love the halfway point of a race: It’s a mental milestone. By now, Molly and Shauna have pulled ahead. Pre-race rules were that Shauna kept the pace no matter what and Molly and I were to run our own races. If we got in front of or behind each other, it was okay. Uphill, into the wind, and cold: I am hitting the wall. I wallow for about 60 seconds.
Then I remember: Everyone is racing in the same conditions; it’s tough for all of us. I didn’t train to almost make my goal. I am going down fighting. I summon the advice of a great coach, “just hang on for as long as you can.” Okay, suck it up and move your feet, I tell myself. It starts to get a little easier. I knew by Mile 8 it would be close at the finish. With so many miles left, it could go either way. So I fight. I watch the elf-ear-clad heads of my friends bob up and down and treat their presence as if we are tethered. I wasn’t losing them. They check on me often as good friends do. Making sure I am there. Shouting at me periodically. Knowing I need to do this portion by myself.
Molly
I am okay until about Mile 9 where I stop to take a GU and grab a water from the aid station. One of the few hills is right after the aid station. Shauna, who is superhuman, has no need for fuel or hydration; she’s also caring Kristin’s coat, which she is now waving at me from the top of the hill to catch up with her. The “sprint” up the hill leaves me huffing and wanting a break, but there is no break in racing, so I plug along. Shauna slows down by a couple of seconds so I can catch my breath (a bit), and I feel better, for a while. Miles 10 and 11, I want to stop. Shauna keeps moving, saying, “you have this,” so I keep on.
Kristin
Mile 9, and I check my watch. It’s tight, but we are still tracking on our goal. I know if we lighten up at all, we won’t make it. I want to slow down slightly, but we can’t. We are within a minute or so of our goal–not much wiggle room. Heads down to block the wind and working hard. The girls are in front of me and I can see that they are still talking. How is that possible? Little did I know around Mile 10, Molly starts to doubt our ability to make it.
By the time I hit Mile 10, this is happening. No matter what. I am determined. Except for the pesky wind, my tired legs, and my mind that is willing me to slow down or stop, this is totally happening. No question…right? I mean, we only have a 5K left.
Then my quad starts getting tight again. And my right knee. And my breathing goes all crazy. Woah, girl, get a hold of yourself. Breathe deeply and believe. ’Tis the season. You can do this. All that training. All those hours. All that hard work. Fast feet.
Mile 11. I am doing this. 2.1 miles. That’s just over eight laps on the track. The girls are right there. I can see them. Don’t let go. There are more spectators now. I silently thank them. More wind. Mother Nature, I really don’t appreciate this. Running isn’t easy. Not everyone can do it. That’s why you do this. If the weather was perfect, you wouldn’t be able to take so much pride in kicking this race’s rear end. Seven laps, then six laps. Seriously, six flipping laps around a track. That’s nothing. You can do this. This is hard! No really, you are so close. Don’t let it slip away. Molly and Shauna keep looking back. I’m right here. Not letting you go. Promise.
Molly
Mile 12 I have to slow down. I can’t keep the pace. I don’t want to keep the pace. Who cares? Not me. Not at this moment. Why do I even try to push myself? What is the purpose? I slow down with maybe a half-mile left. For a bit. Then I feel better. I can hear the finish; then I can see the finish. Let this baby be born already, let me hear her cry!
Kristin is right behind us, she never falters.
This is more like it: three drenched elves, Shauna, Molly, and Kristin (l-to-r).
Kristin
Five laps, four laps, three laps. Now it’s two laps. Why don’t I see the finish or hear many people? Where is the promised downhill finish? Then I round a corner and hear my husband yelling. Then Shauna is back holding her hand out to me to literally pull me in. No, I grunt out, I got this. Molly has crossed the line. I look at my watch and guess what…I did do it. 1:58:30. I think I’m elated, but I’m not sure.
Molly
I had Shauna to pull me along, but Kristin only had her own gumption and stubbornness, yet there we were at the, God love it, end. Me 1:58:11, Kristin 1:58:30. We both won.
Kristin
Both Molly and I say, “that was f*#ing hard!” at almost the same time. Me dropping the F-bomb is not uncommon, but coming from Molly…that’s saying something. I absolutely could NOT have done this without my friends.
Molly
So why do it? Why push oneself? To feel? To doubt? To know limits, to push up against them? Maybe all these reason and some I haven’t discovered yet. I’m glad I did it. I don’t want to do it again soon, but I’ve said that before. Maybe I will push myself again and see if I stop, slow down, or just keep on running.
When I read their race reports via email on my iPhone while in sunny Mexico, I got tears of pride and joy in my eyes….and I immediately confirmed the running date with Molly the morning after we got back. Running friendships: reason #3,839 why I run.
Why I Run: Rachelle Kuramoto
This is from a trail race that I love to do each fall.
I will never forget the first time I went out for a run. I was in high school, and had a rare argument with my parents (about something silly, to be sure). Frustrated, I headed out the door not knowing what I was planning to do. I started to run. Not far, and not fast, but to this day, I can recall the sense of clarity that it created.
At the time, I was a dancer. That run was an isolated moment during that season of life.
This is from Colorado this past summer. My husband, Kenji, and I hiked our kids Sam (10) and Stella (newly 8) up into the Maroon Bells (near Aspen) to the spot where we got engaged. It was a long hike for the kids, but so worth it to share that special place with them.
I married my college sweetheart after finishing graduate school and we rescued Nellie – a sweet pup that came with lots of energy. My husband and I were both working demanding jobs, and I felt it was my responsibility to exercise our pup before leaving her cooped up all day. And so, I ran. But still, it wasn’t a passion. It was a way to exercise the dog – and myself – efficiently, before heading to the office.
Nellie is 13 now. She can’t run with me. Little Ruthie has taken that role now, and still I run. All this time, I have used running for stress relief, weight control, efficient exercise…functional reasoning. But today, running is so much more. It is mine, and it is a passion.
My titles include mom, entrepreneur, PTA president, race organizer, preschool ministry coordinator – and runner. Three years ago, my BRF decided we would run the Disney Princess HM together. Rather than argue, I started to train.
It was in those miles, run simply for the joy of running, that I discovered I am a runner.
Since then, I’ve laid down thousands of miles, taken almost 30 minutes off my HM time, found muscles I never knew I’d been blessed with, and become more thoughtful and contemplative. Yes, running is stress relief. It is weight control. It’s a way to exercise my active dog. But it’s also an important part of who I am.
In a nutshell, I run…
– For the challenge
– Because the bar can be pushed farther and farther, and I enjoy chasing it
– Because I’m a risk-averse adrenaline junkie
– To hear myself breathe
– To think
– For an appetite
– Time for myself
– For music pumping in my ears
– For prayers in my mind and heart
– For ideas and creativity
– To be a good listener and friend
– To be listened to
– To feel strong
– To feel sexy
– To push myself when I feel like quitting
– To race
– For the tears of joy at the finish line
– For the sun rise
– To be on a trail
– To know that my family is proud of me
– To be an example of perseverance and health for my children
– To be proud of myself
– To ward off the diabetes that plagues my father
My family and friends know that I am a runner. While I don’t talk about it constantly, they know that I’m up early and running or training. They see that on holidays I’m wearing sweaty running gear and a big smile (not pajamas) at breakfast. I share my love of running by taking friends (and even my husband – when he’s agreeable to it!) with me, and by running with my children and encouraging them. I love to encourage others, and running is a perfect vehicle.
It may not be that I am a runner at my core (though I suspect that may be the case) – it is because I am a runner that I have found the core of who I am.
Check out Rachelle’s blog here. She’s currently training for her first marathon in Tallahassee on February 3. She’s training “with a dear BAMR Gail Nestor,” who was featured on our site last year.
Why I Run: Sandra Looft
Today begins another installation of Why I Run, essays and other thoughtful words from a variety of mother runners who tell us eloquently and honestly why they, um, run. These will run off and on between now and January 6th.
We are always on the lookout for more essays, poems, lists, or however you want to tell us Why You Run; here are the guidelines. And if you want to spend some time reading past essays they’re all collected right here, it’s a great way to get inspired (and sneak away from the inlaws, if need be).
Without further ado, here’s Sandra.
Sandra describes herself as “a writer, a mother (runner), and a recent grad school survivor.” She blogs at Simply Bike and also tweets as @SimplyBike.
I had tried running without much success before, but it wasn’t until my first year of graduate school that I really gave it another shot. A friend of mine–tall, lanky, with really long legs–would make it around the park on a daily basis. Six miles round trip. The idea of running that distance blew my mind. The idea of doing it willingly and effortlessly didn’t even seem fathomable.
At the time, I was a “social smoker,” a few pounds over my ideal weight, and somewhat lost in the world. I had just finished a year of odd jobs and had moved to a new city, desperately in need of direction. While my Ph.D. work required that I sit in front of a desk, book, or computer most of the day, running allowed me to take a deep breath, quiet my thoughts, and head out into the fresh air.
It took a summer to finally be able to run three miles; a small loop through the park. By then I quit smoking and started eating better as well. Another six months later and I crossed the finish line of my first half-marathon. Six months later, I was lacing up to run a full marathon. There was no turning back, in every sense of those words. Once I started running, I couldn’t imagine not putting on those running shoes and heading out the door, combatting every fear and every worry about graduate school with that steady pound, pound of my feet hitting the ground.
I started running both at home and on vacation. Once, I was visiting my family in Romania and I went out for a run in the small town where my grandparents live. I noticed that I was the only one running, certainly the only one “jogging” just for the sake of it. I worried about the many stray dogs chasing me and I spent the majority of that run crossing from one side of the road to the other, always with a careful eye on the packs of dogs littering the city.
Running is a sport that requires little equipment, yet it still is, like most leisure activities, an act of privilege. A sport for those with time to run just for the joy of it. I often say, I need to run, but what I should say is, I get to run.
I run because it empties my mind; a mind that is always full full full. I run because I live in a place and time that allows me that choice and that freedom. Because I don’t have to worry about street dogs and physical labor and the cost of a pair of running shoes. Because I do have to use my mind all day long and because it’s nice to use my legs for a change.
I run because I finally did find my path and know my direction.
(Almost) Wordless Tuesday: You Might Be a Mother Runner If…
Round two of You Might Be a Mother Runner If. (But I put reason #22 because there are about a gazillion reasons why…and we’ll likely get to at least a thousand of them.) I’ve started a collection of them here, in case you have a self-identity crisis and need a positive reflection of the (badass) mother runner you are.
And I know I asked for your suggestions last week on filling in the blank–You might be a mother runner if…–but we’ll happily take more in the comments below if you got ’em. Thanks, friends.
Running while on Vacation
Dimity wishes she had the “ditto” lights. (Not her ‘hood, but pretty close.)
With Sarah headed south of the border for a family get-away, the mother runners talk about the in’s and out’s of exercising while away from home. They talk about the guilt of taking time away from the family—and about the necessity of getting that alone-time. Dimity and Sarah weave in helpful suggestions culled from their Facebook page, including the best ways to find routes in new locales. And, as a bonus, find out what a “stricture” is—and why Sarah loves a life without them.
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