10K-O: Knocking Out My Running Past

When I was in high school, I was the goalie for the field hockey team. I was also pretty good (most days). A photo of me making a stellar save was once splashed—in color, I might add—across the front page of the local sports section. Kevin Shea, local sports casting icon, covered one of our games for the local news and said the Bruins could have used me in net that night (I could have died happy after that comment). I was named to the City All Star team, given the Coach’s Award my senior year and went on to play the sport in college.

This all happened because I hated running. As a freshman, I offered to try on the goalie pads because I knew I would run less at practice and in games and would have to remember fewer rules. I would rather have had balls pelted and slapshot at me than run two miles every day in practice.

This past Sunday, I ran my first 10K. The girl who once cringed at running a mile ran 6.2 miles without stopping or walking. The same girl, who wanted to smash the coach’s stopwatch in high school, couldn’t wait to get her official finishing time later that afternoon: 1:09:40.

Although I wanted to puke after I crossed the finish line—a combination of the humidity and my sprinting at the end—I was so proud of myself.

A couple months ago my coworker, Abby, convinced me to run the United Run for the Zoo with her. I agreed, thinking it would be something to train for and work toward. I had been looking for something to keep my mind occupied and my exercise goals on track. I knew training for the race would force me to work out on a regular basis and would give me something other than food and boys to obsess or stress over. It was the push I needed to keep running home with Abby and to up my mileage each week.

I consider this the longest race I’ve ever run. A couple of years ago I ran the 7.1 mile Falmouth Road Race on the Cape (2008 and 2009), but I use the word “run” loosely, as I walked a chunk of the race the first year and most of it the second year thanks to an ankle injury—I spent the three months leading up to the race in physical therapy treating the tendinitis, plantar fasciitis and bursitis in my left ankle/foot. So running the entire 6.2 miles without stopping and without the 30-second stoplight breaks I get during my runs around the city—and pain-free (knock on wood!)—was a huge deal for me.

As I crossed the finish line on Sunday I had two thoughts: “Holy crap I did it” and then immediately, “Holy crap how am I going to run 13.1 miles?!” (I am running the Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon in August).

I also never thought I’d ever run 6.2 miles without stopping or consider 3.5 miles my “short run,” or even worse, enjoy it! It is hard to believe that 14 years ago I was the same girl who huffed and puffed through the laborious four laps around the track and became a goalie because I hated running. I wonder if somewhere Miss Mac and her stopwatch would be proud of me. I sure am.