Recently I've gotten back into running somewhat seriously and have plans to complete my first marathon later this year. This combined with my full-time job of mothering gave me the urge to log the lessons learned over my miles of running, for historical and educational purposes for my kids. Earlier this year I also read Running to the Edge, and the stories from that book resonated so much it really caused me to reflect on the tremendous impact running has had on my life. As usual, I'm sharing on the blog in hopes that these stories are relatable and can serve to educate or inspire.
[I'll indent and italicize lessons intended for kids and simply italicize lessons that might be applicable to grown-ups.]
Running has been a foundational part of my confidence and identity since I was a child. As a child, I was always the smallest in school, mostly because of my mom and dad's small genes but also because I was always the youngest in my class, turning five during Christmas break of kindergarten year. I learned early on that "good things come in small packages" and owned that mentality. In the neighborhood, I was typically considered the second fastest cousin, after Mikey. When I was in seventh grade, I learned that I’d gotten more than my share of slow twitch muscle fibers when I stepped on a track for the first time and ran a mile in 7:17. I joined the track team shortly thereafter and quickly became something of a local star.
Through running, my self confidence really blossomed. Small might have left me underestimated, but not weak. I knew I had God-given talent and this really fueled my spiritual life. I prayed nightly for many different reasons but an upcoming race was often on the list. My parents had laid a strong faith foundation. I'm not sure why, but I set rules for myself and my prayers regarding running. I couldn’t pray to win, and I could only ask for three things. It seemed like my prayers were usually answered.
I backed it up with hard work. Being a farm kid, I’d known how to outwork the competition doing everything my coaches asked of me, and more. Yes, I had some good genes, but I also had farm kid grit. My dad and my uncles wouldn’t let me forget that. It was a secret ingredient to my success and allowed me to develop pride over the farm, by which I was otherwise generally embarrassed. All this was formative in countless ways, to say the least. That confidence really came in handy as an 80-pound high schooler who was new to public school and felt rather invisible next to the other girls, who were so much more developed and mature, in many ways.
I was often underestimated or ignored due to my size, but early on I claimed this as a secret weapon of sorts. Don’t worry about what others thing of you, it isn’t between you and them.
Your body is given to you by God. You aren't in control of the size of your body as a child. Take good care, eat well and exercise, but don't let how you look define you; it's only a small part of who you are as a person. If God made you tiny, know He also made you mighty, and He'll use all of you for His good works.
Discipline and hard work that you learn through your favorite activity can be applied to anything else in your life and if you have a strong foundation as a child in this regard, the transition comes almost effortlessly later in life.
Although I was competitive in the sense that I placed in the top few in most races, competitiveness isn’t a hallmark of my personality. My first cross country coach would get so annoyed when I’d lap other runners on the outside, verbally encouraging them, rather than insisting they get outside. He used to joke that he was going to stick me in a cage and poke me with a stick until I stopped being so nice. The truth was, I was competitive, I wanted to win but even more so wanted to do my best. I was most competitive within myself. On the course or the track, I valued amicability more than ferocity or power. Many people saw that as a weakness. Later in life, I'd come to identify Encouraging as one of my Spiritual Gifts.
It's important to have boundaries and not let people take advantage of you or put you down. But, good sportsmanship is a bit of an underrated characteristic these days and it shouldn't be. Winning while kind is an art form worth practicing. Performing better than another person or team is no reason to be mean, rude or entitled. Start now. Learning to put others comfort before your own on the field or the track is a great way to build character that will serve you well in many aspects of your life.
Early sophomore year in high school, my great grandma - the one who’d traveled transatlantic as a teen from Spain to Cuba and then Cuba to NYC, immigrating my dads’ family to the US, died. It was the day of the first cross country meet of the season and I remember my dad telling me, "win it for Grandma." It was a hilly, woodsy course that I can still picture to this day, feeling her strength as I started my season off with my first win. My sophomore year continued and ultimately, was the best year of my running life. I peaked when I was 15.
As a southern Marylanders, our favorite indulgence was a work boat where we went out most every weekend to catch crabs. But, during spring track that year, I’d been pestering my dad whenever Red Lobster commercials came on that I wanted to try lobster. He insisted it wasn’t worth the price and crabs were better, but if I ran under 5:30 he’d take me there. A few months later, at the State meet, I came in second in 5:25, and found out Dad was right; I liked, but didn’t love, the lobster.
As a Junior, I ran well, learned to weight lift and was blessed to be developed by some really incredible coaches. Running also gave me the gift of pride in my parents, and appreciation for them. They were known as key cheerleaders for the entire track and cross country teams; always reliably on the back stretch or a quiet and tough portion of the course, cheering for everyone, not just me. They also coordinated our weekend treks to Fort Washington for hill workouts.
My parents bought a treadmill and kept it in their second floor bedroom, and although I don’t remember running on it terribly often, I remember thinking the whole house was shaking when I did. The only brand name anything I ever owned as a child we’re running shoes, my parents spared no expense when it came to my shoes. Best of all, my mom bought herself a Nike tee shirt which read, "Mary had a little shoe, it’s sole was filled with air and everyone who Mary raced didn’t have a prayer.” She wore it often, as her pride became my own.
Child, pride from your parents is one of the sweetest gifts on earth. Soak that stuff up. And please know that it’s not the winning they’re proud of. It’s you and how you’re spending yourself, focused and determined, testing your limits and showing yourself what God made you to do. The accomplishments are nice, but they aren’t the most important part.
I ran before sunrise and in the afternoons, at practice or when there wasn't any, and before heading to the tobacco stripping shed or field. I'd run on backroads and main roads, trails and through farms. A dog bit me. Everyone honked at me. It all made me feel strong. Running put me in the local paper several times a season and took me to NYC for cross country regionals, and also to summer running camp, all of which had big impacts on my understanding of the world and my place in it. I was a big fish in a little pond.
I ran track and cross country (CC) with some great girls (Val, Amelia, Jessie, Michelle and Shannon, to name a few) who were also talented, strong, and supportive. But there was one girl on the CC team (Donna) who I really admired. She was, in my opinion, pretty slow. But, she carried herself with the same determination and commitment as myself and the other girls I mentioned. Without the chance of winning, I wasn’t entirely sure why she did it. But, I was inspired and I would think of her again many times in the years ahead.
As a senior, I had some proud moments. One was wining a weight-lifting completion, benching 45% of my body weight the most number of times, I think it was 50 or 60-some times; more than all the football players and others in the class. While I ran and placed well in CC and indoor track, I suffered a stress fracture early in the outdoor track season and struggled.
“But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint” (Isa. 40:31)
This was first bible verse I can recall committing to memory.
Getting diagnosed was interesting, because I had “hip” pain, but it was bony - ischial tuberosity to be precise, and while I couldn’t name the bone at that point, I could touch it, and insisted it had to be broken. The doctor didn’t believe me but reluctantly ordered the X-ray, after my mom all but insisted, citing “this girl knows her body.” She’d never done that sort of thing before, but said I knew my body, and she was right. Of note, the doctor didn’t comment on my weight, which was about 90lbs at 17, or ask about my periods, which hadn’t started until I was 15 and had been irregular since, or ask about my eating, which I imagine my mother should have said was that of a horse. I didn’t think his lack of investigation was weird at the time, but later would question these gaps in thoroughness.
During this time, I stumbled upon an interesting quote by founder of the Olympics, Baron Pierre de Coubertin, 1908 in London:
This became my motto.
The following year, I was thankful to be welcomed as a walk-0n to Mount Saint Mary’s college, division 1, track and cross country teams. My first memory is from a preseason event where I felt a little surprised during the uniform try-ons to learn I was a size small, whereas most of the rest of the girls on the team were extra-smalls. I’d never been bigger than anyone I raced or trained with.
Division 1 (D1) cross country was everything you might imagine it could be: awesome and exhausting. I loved it. I loved the running, the girls (and definitely the boys!), and I loved the notoriety it gave us - running around campus in a sports bra everyday helps people notice you in a way I’d never really experienced back home. (Of course, I'd always worn a shirt back then.) We ran 60 miles a week and I gained 20 pounds by Christmas. A lot of it was muscle, we ran two-a-days (2-3 in the morning, 6-10 in the afternoon) and lifted too, but some of it was ice cream and waffles for dinner. I ran well at practice, but poorly at meets, and didn’t know why.
One thing I did know, was that D1 girls were tougher, more talented, and hungrier than anyone I’d ever known before. (Hungrier, both for seconds at dinner as well as athletic achievement.) I wasn’t one of them, but I was ok with that. In indoor track I trained for the 5k and did alright and was shaping up for a good outdoor track season.
My coaches thought I’d excel in the longer distances, so I was training for the 10k, when I got 4 stress fractures in my shins. Again, no one asked any questions about my menses or my diet, but I did get a dexa bone density scan and learned I was osteopenic. When I mentioned it to one of the athletic trainers and asked about the female athlete triad, he said "you're not skinny enough to be anorexic." I knew that. I also knew that I ate twice as much as some girls on the team, and was the shortest and heaviest one. Nevertheless, the shame I felt didn’t feel quite right and it lingered.
When something a coach or a member of your team says or does doesn't feel right, tell your parents. Your parents want and need to know. You won't know if they can help you if they don't know what's happening. And if it's not a big deal, they'll help you understand it.
Parents, let us not underestimate the societal effects on our children's body image. Remember that anorexia isn't about being skinny, it's about control. Our children seek control over themselves when the rest of the world feels so out of control. Thankfully the idolatry of skinny does seem to be lessening, but for those of us with kids in sports where being light is a competitive advantage (running, biking, wrestling, dance, cheer, gymnastics, among others), it's important to keep their health in the forefront of our minds. And finally, let's make sure they know that how they look does not influence their value or worth, not even a little bit.
After the summer, I came back ready to run, but ultimately didn’t make it through the season, following a close friend and co-walk-on when she decided to quit the team. It’s a choice that may have been good for my future career, as I had new priorities (premed) and was clearly not on my way to running professionally. Nevertheless, it's one I regret. I wish I wouldn’t have copied my friends' choice with so little independent/personal discernment. I wish my allegiance to her hadn't been greater than my allegiance to myself.
Kids, have the self confidence to make your own choices. Take the time you need to think about what's best for you and you alone. Don't join or quit activities just because your best friend or love interest or the cooler kids are doing it. Pray about it, talk to your parents, and then stand firm in your own choices with confidence.Ultimately, however, stepping down from the team, promoted growth in me. As I reflect now, I wonder what I said when I returned home and had to explain why I wasn't on the team anymore? I'm sure I was asked frequently how the glory days had passed? Although I cannot recall specifically, I imagine that I admitted I wasn’t running well, which was probably hard given the enormous portion of my identity that it had made up. I was a little fish in a big pond now. That being said, I think this might've been birthplace of the authenticity I’ve so dearly needed and cherished over this most recent decade.
Choosing to end a season of life and leaving an activity behind doesn’t mean you’re a quitter or a failure. Moving on when it’s time is healthy and mature. Especially when it comes to sports, many children peak (like I did) when they're in their teens. Less than 2% of all college athletes go pro and depending on the sport, 1/100 to 1 in several thousand high school athletes end up in professional sports.
I didn’t have what it took to run D1 and I'm thankful I was able to admit that and move on. Looking back, I’m thankful that my pre-pubertal body hadn't shackled me (via scholarship) to something my post-pubertal body couldn’t produce (competitive D1 running results).
Through the rest of college, I ran and biked causally. It was then that I believe that my legs became my primary vehicle for exploring my love of nature, and how the joy of being outside became a primary driver for my runs and rides. My spiritual life also remained strong during this period, and I remember one of the first times I ever felt like God didn’t answer my prayers was when I got back my MCAT scores (the medical school assessment test). I felt devastated by their results but later thankful God still had a plan when I was accepted to LECOM.
In medical school, I was a little fish in an entirely new kind of pond and I struggled here a lot more than I expected to. However, I’d built some resilience that helped carry me through. I started going to a gym where I focused on lifting, and picking up guys. I enjoyed this quite a bit.
During third and fourth year rotations and starting Residency, I got back into running more. As always, running relaxed and empowered me, I would pray and “solve all the worlds’ problems” out there on the roads. On the treadmill, I’d do sprints by Hail Mary's. It was a big part of my spiritual life. By then, I was in a mentally healthier frame of mind and aware of how my body image suffered over the years. I stopped buying magazines so as to avoid the sight of “perfect” bodies and I got rid of my scale; and I'm proud to say, I haven’t had one since.
I also stopped wearing a watch while I ran because it really didn’t matter how fast I ran, and this freedom helped me enjoy running more. For example, as a teenager I’d never run a 5k as slow as 24 minutes. But as I aged, this became more like a lofty goal, and that was hard to reconcile; it took away some of the fun of the exercise, having once been great but no longer. I need to mourn that, shed it, and become a new runner, and that was easier without a watch. Who cared how fast I ran? Plus, I had a pretty strong internal pacer and more than my share of slow twitch fibers, who helped me run consistent, albeit slow.
Around the time of residency graduation, and the start of my marriage, I ran a few half marathons and was in pretty average shape. Being in the healthiest relationship of my life, I also began feeling great about my body image. I trained my then puppy, Ruby, to run, and we had fun.
I ran consistently until my second pregnancy, which we lost. The loss was genetic and unrelated to exercise or my body habitus, but I remember realizing before we lost her, that my weight was under my usual and starting drinking chocolate milk like it was my job. This stuck with me and as the miscarriages progressed, I gave up running almost entirely, afraid that if I got too light, I’d miscarry or not ovulate. I was doing NFP and had taken my temperatures daily for a few years and knew for a fact that I ovulated almost every month, but even that objective data couldn’t withstand my anxieties and fears, so running was a rarity.
As I look back on this time period, I wish I'd run more then. I wish I'd been brave enough to put myself first, although I know that sounds weird. Running is certainly not more important than child-bearing or rearing. But looking back, it's easy to see that my mental health would have improved if I'd had the courage to keep running.
In the superficial sense, I also wish I'd tried for a marathon during my early thirties because trying now in my early forties is probably going to be so much harder and slower!
After 'baby 8,' my seventh pregnancy, which I carried to term, I was 37 and sure I was done having babies, but in the worst shape of my life. Work was busy and running was hard. When I tried to get back out there, it was always in short bursts. Running slow while feeling old wasn’t as fun as I’d expected.
And then came the pandemic. About four months in, I got sent to work from home and struggled for dozens of reasons, not the least of which was that for the first time in my life I was truly sedentary. Weight piled on, but it didn’t matter since I never saw anyone.
Ultimately however, the weight wasn’t the reason I started running again, it was the stress. I was still old and slow, but I got back in the habit, and quickly fell in love all over again. When the pandemic isolation felt heavy, being with the trees helped; when all the world seemed so out of control, breathing in the clouds helped.
And then we brought in our foster son, and what had been an already chaotic and challenging season of life became unrecognizably difficult. I was carrying many burdens of modern motherhood, in addition to the fact that I’d thrust my family into discomfort like we’d never known before. Most of my relationships were strained. I was running some, but feeling guiltier than ever, another burden I just couldn’t bear.
That June (2021), I found myself longing for a drink, an alcoholic drink that is, and that was never something I’d felt before. Although I’d binge drank a bit in medical school and residency, I was never a weekday drinker at all. Additionally, I didn’t drink at all during the years trying to conceive. As a historical note, I have a few second degree relatives who suffer from alcoholism and my mom was a perfect example of sobriety for my siblings and I throughout our lives. She always avoided it, knowing she might have the addiction gene, and avoiding any such temptation or slippery slope. I was reminded of this, knowing that just when I felt I “needed” it the most was exactly when I knew I had to avoid it the most.
So, I turned to the roads. I needed to run.
Soon after, I made the grand decision to resign from work, and two months later the kids went back to school. Immediately, I hit the roads and picked up where I’d left off so many years before. I'm not sure if it was the base I'd built during the pandemic, or just sheer desperation to feel in control of something in my life, but it didn’t feel as hard to get in shape as it had before.
I got map-my-run, started timing myself, and eventually bought a Garmin too. I’ve been able to make these incremental changes and get stronger slowly without feeling obsessed. Although I will note that when deciding on a marathon training plan, my tumultuous history with running was evident. I couldn't stomach a "beginner" plan, although I am in every sense of the word a beginner marathoner (having never run any more than half the total race distance before starting to train). Ultimately, I made my own plan, a sort of hybrid between the intermediate and beginner plans, which sat better in my psyche.
Throughout this last year of running, my predominant emotion is gratitude. I’m just so thankful. After my infertility and some other medical problems, I'd begun feeling disappointed in my body, like it betrayed me, more than once. But through running I've come to feel more balanced, remembering my many gifts; not taking them for granted. I realized I'm neither old nor slow, and I need to try and eliminate those unhealthy thoughts from my internal dialogue - I'm just out there putting one foot in front of the other, doing my best. Now, I try to intentionally recognize and appreciate the strength of my body, feeling blessed it is as well as it is and praying it stays so for many years to come.
I'm thankful I have more than my share of slow twitch fibers which give me endurance to enjoy many miles. Thankful the endorphins can flow and naturally relieve my stress. Thankful that I’m able to let my sorrows and frustrations out on the roads and trails, breathing in the trees and clouds instead, unleashing my prayers into the wind. I know my running is a gift, not the articles-in-the-paper kind of gift anymore, but still the kind that gives me confidence, and stamina for the rest of life.
My renewed commitment to fitness is well timed, as I’m raising 4 boys who will soon outweigh and outrun me. We’re setting an example of healthy living and I’m proud of that.
But mostly, I see this running as a gift to myself. One I should have never stopped giving myself. One I hope I’m able to do for many years to come.
Some days, my run is the best part of my day, and at first that made me feel guilty. Over time I’ve begun to shed that guilt. Perhaps in part due to the mission-driven approach we've taken to our parenting, if I'm being honest, raising our four special boys is stressful more often than not. Or maybe that's just true for all parents. Either way, I now recognize that it's perfectly healthy to admit that I need and deserve my own personal happiness, in addition to but distinct from the large amounts of value and joy I gain from my family. Now I’m more present and mindful, and just so thankful to be able to have a joy and/or peace filled run as part of my day.
This year, as a resolution of sorts, the word I chose is pray and I’m praying I’ll become more and more mentally tough, patient, wise, and resilient; possessing equanimity. I’m hoping through commitment to prayer and running, that I’ll be able to steady myself in the challenges that linger ahead.
As my marathon draws near, I’ve been impressed how during the long runs, my mind struggles more than my legs or my lungs. Self doubt (in addition to plantar fasciitis) is my biggest obstacle. I’ve also enjoyed how much marathoning is the perfect metaphor for mothering. When you get to those middle miles, ain’t nothing easy about it. And that's part of the fun - pushing forward anyways. Growing through the tough stuff. Believing in my heart and feeling in my body that I am faithful, strong and steadfast, even if this journey doesn't go like I plan.
In summary, what do I hope for my kids and their athleticism:
Child, I am proud of you, now and always. Use your God-given abilities to their greatest potential. Maybe you'll be small like me; maybe you'll peak early like me; maybe you won't. Either way, don't let it define you. Develop a good work ethic and stay committed, allowing your favorite activity to grow in you many characteristics that you will be able to use in future aspects of your life. Be on guard against becoming obsessed, know that this activity is only a portion of your life and let's work together to keep it a healthy portion. Use it to stay healthy, both physically and mentally. Be a role model for sportsmanship and cultivate a positive attitude on all the teams you ever have the privilege of participating on. Be successful and proud, and give God the glory for all your achievements. I cannot wait to watch and support as you discover and hone your talents! Never forget, YOU are God's Masterpiece!
Ephesians 2:10:
For we are God’s masterpiece.
He has created us anew in Christ Jesus,
so we can do the good things
he planned for us long ago.
