Starting is the Hardest Part — Part 1

Most people know me as the bubbly, outgoing one. I’m quick to make friends and build bridges. A person who anyone and everyone can feel safe to be around (or so I hope).

I graduated from NP school back in 2013, and around that time I got into running.

I remember signing up for my first 5K and quickly becoming overwhelmed with the Couch to 5K progression. It was extremely hard to motivate myself to keep going. Those first six weeks were the most challenging. It hurt. I was breathless and struggling to simply jog.

I felt embarrassed to run outside or go to the gym because of body image concerns, so I did my training on the treadmill at home. For five weeks, running on that treadmill felt like torture.

I knew for my health I needed to do something active and change. Nothing changes if nothing changes. Starting felt so hard.

Race week arrived, and I was extremely nervous. I hadn’t run outside since gym class, and I told myself I needed to try it at least once before the race.

I convinced myself that if I ran outside in the dark, I wouldn’t be embarrassed by my non-athletic body shape, because people couldn’t really see me.

So, on a crisp fall evening as night fell, I strapped up my laces and nervously set out.

And all of a sudden, the effort became easier.

What had felt like a torturous struggle on the treadmill suddenly felt…

Dare I say it?

Fun.

Here I was running through the neighborhood in the dark, and this feels fun?!

I didn’t know running was fun! Running had always felt like torture to me, and I couldn’t imagine why anyone would punish themselves with longer distances.

That core memory became foundational to everything that happened next, and I hadn’t even run the race yet.

Yowzers.

Fast forward to race day: the Komen Race for the Cure in Knoxville.

There were thousands of people everywhere downtown. It was an incredible sight. The national anthem played, followed by the starting gun.

We were off.

My goal was simply to finish.

The energy of running a 5K with everyone around me was electric. It brought fire through my veins. Music played along the course, and I vividly remember “Wake Me Up” by Avicii pouring out near one of the hills.

It felt hard, but I had never felt so alive. Hundreds of strangers in close proximity, all giving their energy to putting one foot in front of the other.

I finished.

And my time was better than I expected.

It was a mountaintop high. I had so much fun. The event, the energy, the experience was a core memory. Two core memories in one week.

I was so excited to take home my “trophy”: my race T-shirt.

The T-Shirt that started it all…

To me, that shirt was a symbol.

I’m an athlete now.

Except… I still didn’t really believe it.

Maybe the next milestone would do it?

A 10K?

I shared my story with a physician I worked with who ran marathons. She told me that if I could run a 5K, I could train for a 10K.

So I couldn’t wait to signed up for the next race. Hot to Trot Turkey Trot in Turkey Creek in Farragut, TN.

I followed the 5K-to-10K progression. This time, I did most of my training outside, and I loved it.

The 10K came.

I finished that too.

My marathon-running coworker told me that if I could run a 10K, I could run a half marathon.

She was right.

In Cleveland, Ohio, I completed my first half marathon. The Hard Rock Half Marathon was incredible. Music at every mile. Great aid stations.

That was also the first time I tried a running gel (Gu). No issues! I didn’t even know running gels were a “thing.”

I tried one. Tried another one from the next station.

I felt amazing.

And I finished the race strong.

Surely after finishing a half marathon, I could finally admit I was an athlete?

Disney Half Marathon. Shout out to Olivera :)

Nope.

My brain moved the goalpost again.

I was slow.

I hadn’t completed a marathon.

There was always something I hadn’t done yet.

So naturally, I decided I wanted to train for a marathon.

I buckled down, thinking determination and grit would get me through. It had worked so far.

Until it didn’t.

I fizzled hard.

I couldn’t do it.

Looking back, my fear of gaining weight kept me from fueling the work. I didn’t see myself as an athlete, so I didn’t fuel like one. I thought carbs lead to diabetes, and I wanted to run to be healthy.

Instead I simply followed the progressive training plan and wondered why I couldn’t go the distance.

After all, I was considered overweight most of my life. Why would I give my body carbs when I’m “overweight” by BMI? I was told to eat less and exercise more.

I even paid for nutritional coaching to help me lose weight. That path led to more restriction: don’t eat if you aren’t hungry, eat only until 70% full.

I felt worse.

Eventually, I burned out from running.

I wanted no part of it.

My passion was extinguished.

Years later, after that burnout had passed, I realized something.

I missed it.

So I started over.

It wasn’t as hard as the first time, but starting still felt hard.

This time, I promised myself I wouldn’t stop.

Eventually, though, running alone became boring. It felt like pulling teeth to get myself out the door.

Several friends from church did triathlon, and I became intrigued.

It looked really cool.

It also looked intimidating.

Hard-core intimidating.

Thankfully, those friends encouraged me to simply try a sprint triathlon, even if I needed to doggie paddle the swim.

I just lined up in the back.

So I did.

First Sprint Triathlon Transition

It took me five months to train for my first sprint. I used the bike at the gym, followed a running progression outside, and tried swimming at the gym pool once a week during the last month of training.

I could doggie paddle.

And I was extremely embarrassed with my swim.

Race day came, and I was incredibly nervous. I told myself to do the race super easy and only push myself during the last part of the run.

I did.

And it was a blast.

Another mountaintop high.

Another core memory.

I had gone from hiding on a treadmill because I was embarrassed for anyone to see me run to crossing the finish line of my first triathlon.

Did I see myself as an athlete now?

Still nope.

And I had absolutely no idea how many curveballs life was about to throw between me and finally believing it.

Continued in Part 2

Coming soon Tuesday, August 25

First Sprint Triathlon Run Finish- Didn’t have a race band for the bib number, so used my first half marathon race shirt instead.