Confessions of a Fat Runner

This article appeared in Newsweek last month. I was reminded of it in light of the first meeting of our women's beginner running clinic this past Wednesday. Over 35 women -- of all ages, shapes, and stations in life -- braved the cold to come out and, well, run. Before we hit the trail, I asked each of them why they had come, what brought them here. And I appreciated their candid replies: many of them do not like running.

In the past, it has been uncomfortable, even painful, inconsistent, and unsatisfying. But in the same breath, they offered some glimpse of an explanation for their lack of enjoyment: trying to keep up with their husbands, or an unrealistic training plan, or an idea of how fast they "ought" to be running. It became tiring and demoralizing. Left unchecked, running can often become more about external expectations than about internal motivation. When this happens, it is easy to forget why we run.

An excerpt from the end of the article:

"But this is the beauty of the run: a mile into a good one, you stop caring about what anybody thinks. Push past the pain, ignore the passing cars, and soon you arrive at a place where your head is clear, your breathing calm, and the cares of the day fade away. This is why we run, all of us—the thinnest and the fattest. This is why we race. This, and sometimes there's free beer at the finish line."

At this particular station in my life, running has become more about my mental health and less about physical achievement. I do my best thinking when I run. Occasionally, I tackle some of the world's crises. While I admit it has been pride-swallowing to know that my pace per mile is a good bit slower that it was a few years ago, I enjoy my run -- indeed, cherish it -- for other reasons now (but I still enjoy the beer at the finish line).