As the Canadian of the gang, and hailing from the manically over-athletic city of Vancouver, sports (and running in particular) have been part of my cultural consciousness from the get-go. I signed up for my first 10k race in the spring of my grade 10 high school year - the Vancouver Sun Run (aka Vancouver's Eurasia). As we all gathered at the start line..with thousands of runners milling around and the excitement rippling through the air, a tangible endorphin static...I was hooked. I don't remember much about that race, but I will never forget being joined with tens of thousands of fellow runners, all united in the same crazy pursuit.
About ten years later, I decided to officially train for the Sun Run - inspired by my new friend Suzy who was a marathon runner and a coach at one of the community running clinics. In the weeks leading up to the race, I was on a legitimate runner's high. My training was going swimmingly, I had shed a few pounds, and a new-found strength hardened my muscles. I remember telling Suzy, in one of my starry-eyed post-run highs, that I "felt a runner coming alive in me for the first time." I was on top of the world. And then, just as quickly, I walked (or ran, I guess) straight into a double-knee injury that knocked me flat on my back - and out of the running world - for about two years. It took 3 or 4 months before I could even walk without pain. I resigned myself to the fact that running just wasn't for me - and with no small amount of disappointment and grief.
I didn't seriously consider running again until moving to Istanbul. I realized that I needed an outlet from the traffic and pandemonium of this wonderfully chaotic metropolis...and I decided to try again. Slowly slowly...yavas yavas...I came to realize that the only thing holding me back were my own fears and perceived limitations. When I stepped outside of the boundaries of what I, in my mind, could or couldn't do, I realized that the "couldn't" category was getting smaller by the minute. I set my mind on small, measurable goals, and realized that some runs would be easier than others. Some parts of runs would be easier than other parts. And I focused on fighting for the feeling that never fails to come after pushing yourself beyond what you think you are capable of.
As I stood at the start of this last weekend's Eurasia...and my seventh race in Turkey...a lot of thoughts competed for my attention. How races never fail to join people together in a happy community that seems harder and harder to create these days. How I can know not a soul around me, and yet feel so physically connected, as our feet pound the pavement in the same rhythms and our breathing patterns gradually sync. How fear can hold us back from doing what we most desire. And yet when I look around at my fellow racers - all different shapes and sizes, all ability levels, some with disabilities - I can see that they haven't let fear hold them back either. And I am honoured to be part of this brave and beautiful community.
About ten years later, I decided to officially train for the Sun Run - inspired by my new friend Suzy who was a marathon runner and a coach at one of the community running clinics. In the weeks leading up to the race, I was on a legitimate runner's high. My training was going swimmingly, I had shed a few pounds, and a new-found strength hardened my muscles. I remember telling Suzy, in one of my starry-eyed post-run highs, that I "felt a runner coming alive in me for the first time." I was on top of the world. And then, just as quickly, I walked (or ran, I guess) straight into a double-knee injury that knocked me flat on my back - and out of the running world - for about two years. It took 3 or 4 months before I could even walk without pain. I resigned myself to the fact that running just wasn't for me - and with no small amount of disappointment and grief.
I didn't seriously consider running again until moving to Istanbul. I realized that I needed an outlet from the traffic and pandemonium of this wonderfully chaotic metropolis...and I decided to try again. Slowly slowly...yavas yavas...I came to realize that the only thing holding me back were my own fears and perceived limitations. When I stepped outside of the boundaries of what I, in my mind, could or couldn't do, I realized that the "couldn't" category was getting smaller by the minute. I set my mind on small, measurable goals, and realized that some runs would be easier than others. Some parts of runs would be easier than other parts. And I focused on fighting for the feeling that never fails to come after pushing yourself beyond what you think you are capable of.
As I stood at the start of this last weekend's Eurasia...and my seventh race in Turkey...a lot of thoughts competed for my attention. How races never fail to join people together in a happy community that seems harder and harder to create these days. How I can know not a soul around me, and yet feel so physically connected, as our feet pound the pavement in the same rhythms and our breathing patterns gradually sync. How fear can hold us back from doing what we most desire. And yet when I look around at my fellow racers - all different shapes and sizes, all ability levels, some with disabilities - I can see that they haven't let fear hold them back either. And I am honoured to be part of this brave and beautiful community.
Vancouver Sun Run 2008
You made me think of how I started running :-). Loved your story!
ReplyDeleteGreat Post Mel! Great pic too, it brings back fun memories! ����❤️
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