Music-related titles are my thing, yup. Today I am admitting my love for 80s rock music…blame my Dad for that. It’s actually the title of an album (and a song) by Gary Moore.
My dad has always been a runner. I think you’re either a normal athlete doing anything from team sports to swimming to playing darts (It’s a sport!) or you’re a runner. They are a special bunch of people.
Some people do cardio workout to support their main workout like weight lifting, others simply want to burn calories quickly. But they’re not runners. They don’t get excited about new running shoes like they are new Louboutins/(insert cool sneakers), most likely, they won’t even possess proper ones. Or 10 pairs of them, which is more than all of their other shoes combined.
I was introduced to the art of the running sport by my Dad. When I said he was always a runner, that’s actually a lie. He started around age 30, after I was born because he had gained quite a lot of weight. My mother used to say that they gained the weight together during her pregnancy, but my Dad forgot that he wasn’t the one who gave birth to a child….
So he started running. He’s turning 53 this year and he is still doing it. I joined him around age 13- I was always a very active kid. Always on the move, biking, playing Badminton, throwing balls around our garden, tumbling (really badly, mostly somersaulting straight into a bush, so I gave it up).
I ran my first 10k at 14, without ever having practiced on that level, but 5ks were for scrubs, that’s what I thought then. And it was awesome. I loved training for the run, getting faster und stronger. At first, I wasn’t able to breathe after half a mile and I was slow as a snail. Snails might have even outpaced me at the time.
My dad did the math and told me, right before the race, that he was expecting us to run for 1:20. I couldn’t say anything about that, so I just nodded. I came in at 1:05 and I was so proud! I couldn’t believe it.
Fast forward to the next fall semester. My parents are seperating. There are a lot of things I have stopped doing. Running is one of them. Partly because the relationship with my dad is…difficult. Partly because I have developed a depression I wouldn’t really recover from for years, although I couldn’t say what it was at the time.
I had worse time periods throughout the next 4 years, but one thing that never changed was the fact that I had stopped moving around. I didn’t have physical education in college, I took some ballet classes, which I loved, they were challenging on a different level. But it wasn’t the same.
March 2017. I just got out of the longest and weirdest break-up phase. I am feeling pretty weird in my own body. I have lost weight in weird places, gained some in others. Describing my shape would sound a bit like: Zero muscle, kind of a stick with some soft edges. I am tall, so looking like a stick is normal for me. But I don’t look healthy right now.
I went for a run nearly everday for the past week, maybe even ten days or so. If I didn’t go on a run because I was sore (training level 0, hello…),at least I went for a walk or did some stretching, ab exercises etc.
After 3 days, it was like an addiction. Not like a “Wow, I am feeling different already and now I want to look fabulous in 3 days”. But I was getting nervous if I hadn’t worked out until noon. Carzy, isn’t it?
3/17/17 – one week in – Results:
My mind is wandering less, I feel calmer. My backaches are still present, but less present, definitely. I am more focused on small projects around the apartment. I am happy.