When I started running a few years ago, I aspired to be able to do a mile in ten minutes. For some reason, a ten-minute mile seemed do-able, respectable, and comfortable. A ten minute mile is approximately equivalent to a 30 minute 5K or a 2-hour half-marathon, which seemed like worthy goals. So I started running. At first I'd run a little bit and then walk until I could catch my breath. Then I'd do it over again. Pretty soon I was running the whole time, and shortly after that, I reached my goal of the ten-minute mile. I did my first half-marathon in two hours and five minutes, which works out to be something like nine minutes and fifty seconds per mile. I felt like my future as a runner would be spent maintaining both my speed and distance.
Maybe it's because I was never a fast runner, or even much of an athlete as a kid (I got knocked almost unconscious during a class softball game in fifth grade when I was searching for four-leaf clovers in the outfield). Maybe it's because I have asthma and was always a little bit worried about overdoing it. Maybe it's because all of my friends who I ran with at five in the morning set the pace at a comfortable ten-minute mile (if you're motivated enough to start the day with nine miles at 5 o'clock, you've got to be pushing yourself pretty hard, right?). Maybe it's because I didn't become much of a runner until I was pushing 30 (I did my first half-marathon at 28), but I didn't set very lofty goals for myself. I think I had the same attitude about running that I did about high school, which was not to work any harder than I had to to get the result I wanted.
Anyway, over the last few years, I've had a group of online friends. There are quite a few of us who are runners. And a lot of them are fast-- much faster than I ever was. When I was setting my treadmill at a comfortable 6 (as in 6mph), I was reading about them setting theirs at 7.5 or 8. I thought they were superwomen. I thought I couldn't do it.
And then I got pregnant with Maren. At first I thought I'd quit running. But I didn't. Then I thought I'd run until I started feeling sick. But then I realized that running helped me not feel too sick. Then I thought I'd run until my ligaments wore out or my belly got in the way or I had too many contractions while I was running. And two days before she was born I was still running three miles every morning before the other kids woke up.
And then she was born. And I got on the treadmill, and set it to my regular pace of 6.2. And I felt so light and free! And I realized I could push myself so much further now that she was born! So for the last few months, following the lead of my speedy MOFs (and for the record, the competitve bug hit me hard with academics once I got to college) I've been slowly cranking up the speed on my treadmill. Most mornings, I do 3 laps at 8mph, followed by a cool down lap at 7.5, and then repeat, until the final lap, which I run at 9mph. The other day, I did my "long" run outside, and I didn't feel like I was pushing myself too hard, and I ran a little more than six miles in about 50 minutes. I'm getting fast-- and it sort of shocks me.
And it also makes me think-- the only thing that was limiting me, keeping me from going faster, for the last five years, was my mind convincing me that I couldn't do it. And I wonder what other areas of my life I'm holding myself back in. Last month my book group read Julia Child's My Life in France and the thing that strikes me most about her story is that up until her late thirties, Julia Child didn't know how to cook at all. When she was my age, she probably thought she'd never learn how. I wonder if I'm allowing myself to wallow in mediocrity at some things (like writing or parenting maybe) that I could really do well if I applied myself more. I probably could, but do I really want to invest the kind of energy I put into running into every other part of my life? I'm exhausted right now as it is.
So yeah, I'm no longer a ten-minute-mile girl. But the new girl, the seven-and-a-half-minute-mile girl, looks at the ten-minute-mile girl she used to be and sees the contented ignorance in her eyes, and sometimes wonders if all of the striving is really worth it.
--originally published 5/13/07
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