What if I Don't Ever Run Again?

I've been on a quest to run again, but last week I had a thought - what if I don't want to?

My sister and me before the 2018 Flying Pig Half Marathon.

A few months ago, I attempted to reboot my running career with a DIY couch-to-5k program. I made it about two weeks before my hamstring and low back flared up and life got in the way. And last week I had this thought, what if I don’t ever run again? What would that look like? 

I spent the last two years putting myself back together so I could run. I feel like it is the closest thing I’ll ever get to flying, and I don’t like heights or flying but running makes me feel like I am while keeping my feet on the ground. There’s something about slicing through the air with my body, feeling the sweat dry on my face, and drumming out a rhythm with my feet. Running is heading out on a cold morning and thinking about how cold it is and then feeling the heat pulsing through my body when I am finished. I marvel at my endurance and strength on those long run days - it fills me up to face whatever needs facing off the pavement. I love the sense of accomplishment and the long, hot shower on the other side of a run. I love the electric energy of race day - the thousands of shared heartbeats, footfalls, cheers. 

It’s been a long-held dream of mine to run the Boston Marathon. Actually, it’s been a long-held dream to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Running in Boston in April doesn’t actually sound all that appealing. It could be 40 degrees and raining with gale-force winds like one of the times my sister ran it or 60 degrees and flawless like another time she ran it. She’s run it six times and broke three hours last year.

I am competitive and the person I compete against the most is myself. (Okay, see note about my sister above, maybe a little competition there, but mostly a proud big sis. She’s a beast.) Running satisfies that drive and neutralizes it at the same time - I can push myself and back off because it’s just me out here. 

I fell in love with running as a freshman in high school on the field hockey team. On Mondays we did a 1.5 mile loop and Wednesdays we did a 3 mile loop before practices. My goal starting off was to get out and get ahead as fast and far as possible. Mainly so I could be by myself. I stopped playing field hockey because academics got too intense but I kept running. (I wish I would have kept playing field hockey - its intensity and stick smashing were right up my alley too.) That’s how running became my outlet. 

But now, I am 41 years old with three kids and it’s not as simple as lacing up my shoes and heading out the door. It’s an ordeal to find time to shower, let alone log miles and THEN shower. These days I gauge my workouts by sweat level and time. If it takes too much time and the sweat level requires a hair-washing I won’t do it.  On top of that, my body now requires a lot of prepping and stretching pre- and post- run. More time. 

Very fancy hair-washing matrix gauge

I could run on the treadmill we have in the basement which I started out doing with the DIY-couch-to-5k. I hate running on the treadmill. It reminds me of that Smashing Pumpkins song about the rat in the cage filled with rage. If I want to get in a 20-30 minute run I estimate it would take me an hour with warm-up, running, stretching, and showering. And the logistics of figuring out when I could fit that in seems daunting and would likely mean running in the dark. And all of the stretching also seems daunting. 

These days I scramble to fit in a Yoga with Adriene video before the rage koala wakes up. I love the videos but this routine feels kind of listless. It’s usually a game-time decision. Then I get analysis-paralysis about which video to choose because there are so many, and I lose five minutes of my time picking the video which puts me five minutes behind getting the whole morning kicked off.  Then I amp up the anxiety from the video-picking AND the five-minutes-behind panic with a shot of espresso and undo all of the lovely work I did with the yoga. Maybe all of this is putting me on a path towards power-walking at a dead mall. Power-walking might squeak under the sweat-level threshold on my hair-washing matrix. 

And so I found myself asking, given all of that, if I actually want to run again. This hinges on the big assumption if I can run again - I am currently slated for a lidocaine injection followed by ultrasound to see what’s going on in my hamstring. What would happen if I didn’t? What would I do instead? 

I might not have another marathon in me. I am coming to terms with that. I did one in 2015 and my husband told me I looked better after childbirth than I did after the marathon. He was right. Looking back on the past few months I’ve realized one of the things I’ve missed is a good sweat. That cleansing, shedding, detoxing that comes with a good sweat. I’ve tried OrangeTheory and cycling, and for me there is just such a freedom in running that I don’t find with those types of workouts, even if they are good sweats. For me the best good sweat is from running. I think where I’ll end up is a scenario where I can run a few miles two to three times a week. Or maybe I give it up. But I don’t think so. My feet and my heart miss flying. 

Thank you, as always, for reading! Your likes, comments, and shares help my work and your support keeps me going. 

Here are some of my faves I wrote in 2023 ICYMI: 

Bad Weaner

Me Time Fail 

United States v. Kendall 

Also, I recently published an article about breastfeeding my son with Down syndrome in Insider.

What’s your outlet? 

What do you do to move your body and how do you find the time? 

Any fellow runners? 

Anyone make it all the way to Boston? What was it like?