I’ve said this a thousand times, and I’ll say it a thousand more before I finish my last mile—Running is like life, and life is like running.
Lately I’ve had to practice being light on my feet. Paige and I Once parked, I make my move, and we’ve adapted our training plan to merge with hectic schedules, and her family’s recent move. I found a hotel treadmill to train on during spring break.
I even figured out an efficient way to fit in my recovery runs on the days when I have class: I dress for a quick change.
My shorts and jog bra go on under a dress. Running socks are only visible in my booties if you are looking straight down. Tank top and running shoes stay in the car.
I keep a big ice water in a Yeti cup, and a bar or a bag of almonds in the center console. I wear an elastic hair band on my wrist like a bracelet.
I go to class looking like a regular middle-aged mom going back to school, with a backpack. My superpowers are underneath my unassuming exterior.
After class I hop in my car, swap my nerdy bifocal glasses for sunglasses, and munch on my snack while I drive to the trail. I try to find some good music. The 80s channel on XM usually gets me in the mood.
Once parked, I make my move.
Booties unzipped and kicked off. Dress up over my head, tossed on passenger seat. Tank top on. Shoes tied. Snap hair tie off wrist. Pull hair in ponytail. Swig a sip of cold water. Voilà. Ready.
Other Hearst Subscriptions. We need to be able to adapt to changes in weather and terrain. We need to be able to handle detour signs and find alternate routes. We have to be able to push through a bonk or a wall, and hold it together until we can transcend. We need to be able to run in a pack, or go it alone. We need to be able to adjust our pace and tweak our training. We need to be both self-reliant and coachable. We need to know our bodies well enough to know exactly what we need—and do something about it. We need to know what pain we can play through and when it’s serious and time to stop.
Anything can happen between a start and a finish line, and we have no idea how the miles in between will unfold.
I start my watch and hit the road. I am the female equivalent of Clark Kent in the phone booth. It feels good to swap one identity for another, a pile of clothes the only evidence of my transformation. I can feel my body shake off three hours stuck in a classroom seat and I am extra grateful for sunshine on my shoulders and a breeze in my hair.
I feel light on my feet, happy to find a way to make it work instead of making an excuse.
Kristin Armstrong is a mother, a writer, and a runner. She has written six books, including her latest, Mile Markers: The 26.2 Most Important Reasons Why Women Run.
