Becoming A Runner Helped Me Find My Strength and Saved My Life
Like many, I started running to overcome some demons I was dealing with.
The year was 2012 and I didn’t know it yet, but I was coming up on the tail end of a very unloving, unfulfilling downright angry and sad twenty-two-year marriage. I (and he on occasion) had fought long and hard to try to make it better or at least stem the massive bleeding of our relationship.
For years and years, I had been told I was unlovable, stupid and pretty much every other negative thing you can fling at someone. I was beaten down. I believed these things about myself. That’s what happens; the conversation that you have with that person becomes the conversation you end up having with yourself.
I had always been active, but never a runner. I walked numerous dog’s numerous miles. I pushed my babies ( all 3 of them ) to numerous parks. I tried many a gym and many a yoga class.
And then my neighbor who was always a runner finally wore me down and convinced me to run my first 5K. I had walked that race for years and years. But never run it. I ran/walked it that first year and it felt amazing.
But what was truly life-changing was the training. I scheduled my runs in my calendar. I made it and finally me a priority. Finally. I made a conscious decision to do this for me. Because I was worth it. Because I could do it. Because I had to. If not, I was going to lose me. Completely. Gone.
So, I trained. I ran. On the roads. On the track. On the treadmill. On the trails. I ran. And ran. And it felt amazing. And hard. So hard. But the hard was what made it worthwhile.
I realized I was worthwhile and strong. And that I deserved something more. I deserved a man that deserved me. I deserved a man who cherished me. I deserved a man who I was enough for.
I work on myself all the time, still. And most likely I will always have self-esteem issues due to that period of my life. Makes sense.
But I run. And running is a Godsend for me.