You Can’t Skip the Process

“You can’t skip the process. You can’t shortcut the process. You can’t speed up the process .You have to go through the process” –Pastor Kris Duerksen, this Sunday morning.

Ugh, how I love-hate the process. On one hand, the process is glorious. I have it emblazoned on the header of this blog: “Life is a grand adventure, or nothing.” It could also read, ‘If you’re not struggling you’re not living.” There is something exhilarating about the tension of being far less than what you see yourself being. You’re not comfortable, but at least you know you are alive. Your aching muscles keep reminding you.

My clothes are laid out for tomorrow’s tempo run.

But if you’re like me, you think you should have your life together already, know what I mean? In example, how long does it take to get my finances in order? Can I just expect to be broke for the next ten years? Why can’t I muscle my way into a better monetary place? Well I am, sort of, in a better place than even two months ago. Still, it’s hard to believe I could ever rise above.

The quote above reinforced in me this idea: It’s no use beating myself up about it. I’m such an expert at self-flagellation. I remind myself every second minute that I’ve yet to reach my goal of perfection. But I can’t fix (insert problem here) by guilt-tripping myself. I’ve got to keep powering along, trusting that each incremental change takes me closer to freedom. I also have to trust that God is working in me, and that even though I’m tired, he isn’t. He won’t give up on me.

So, with that in mind, here’s a motto I picked up along the way. “The only way to go back is to go forward.” I utilize this during longer runs, when I’m still at the pre ‘runner’s high’ stage and asking myself why I’m doing this to myself again, or near the end when my legs have had enough. “Well how will you get home if you don’t keep going, huh?” You don’t get home by sitting there. You don’t get better by bailing on the process.

The process is sometimes fun. My first couple weeks of half-marathon training were fantastic. I longed for the end of the workday when I could hit the gym, or the pavement. But now I’m stressed, and kind of terrified. I think it will become fun again.

There’s only one way to find out. “Once more unto the breach!”

Hope for Those of Us Without a Degree

If you’re like me and never finished–or never started–your degree, and now feel like you missed the bus, I’d like to encourage you with this quote by business leader and author, Chris Brady:

“Those who deliberate, dilly-dally, hesitate, ponder, get bogged down in analysis, or have to be sure everything is perfect before taking action might do a very good job at what they do; they just don’t get much of it accomplished… It is almost always the go-getters who become the biggest leaders. To lead implies action, and leaders are people of action. There are usually people who have more talent, more time, more connections, more means, and more information than the leader, but the leader emerges to influence events because he or she takes action while others hesitate,” –Chris Brady, Leadership Lessons from the Age of Fighting Sail. 

I spent four months working with a gentleman with a masters degree in physics. His wife has her masters in mathematics. They are immigrants, and in the courageous way of immigrants, they took the jobs they could find so that they could begin a new life. So he is now a pharmaceutical coating operator like me.

But I do feel woefully undereducated, with my two-year diploma in Biblical Studies, when I compare myself to him. I’d love to have a degree–heck, in almost anything. In fact, I’d be a student for life it just paid better. But circumstances don’t allow that right now. Sometimes I get an inferiority complex because I don’t have the education, it seems, to do anything other than manual labour.

But there is something I do have: initiative. According to Mr. Brady, that’s a big part of being a leader. Initiative: something that doesn’t require a student loan, four years of school, or a certificate from the government. It just takes courage and action.

In a caveat, Brady says, “This is not to imply that all leaders are reckless or reactive–though some may be–but rather that leaders err on the side of decisiveness. Over time, the tendency toward action builds ability, so deficiencies of talent or means are eventually overcome.”

Or deficiencies of age, as I continually remind myself.

So, if you’re undereducated like me, take heart because, “There are usually people who have more talent, more time, more connections, more means, and more information than the leader, but the leader emerges to influence events because he or she takes action while others hesitate.”

By the way, can I just say that if you can get your hands on a copy of Leadership Lessons from the Age of Fighting Sail, do it! Anything by Chris Brady is worth reading, and this latest release is a thrilling way to learn leadership principles. If you are a history buff, you’ll love it. Find it at his blog, here.

Judgement is Rich Coming From Me

“Why are there so many people here?”

That was early January in the gym, as I pounded away on the treadmill and grew increasingly annoyed by the chatter around me.

Oh yeah, January–resolutions and such.

I confess that as I watched two pretty, thin girls do five or six reps on each machine and then complain how hard it was, I killed myself laughing on the inside. I’m a little chunky, but I’m in a heck of a lot better shape than those barbie dolls. But after I stopped laughing, I felt guilty. Judgement is pretty rich coming from me. I spent the summer daring anyone who passed me to laugh as I panted and wheezed through Couch to 5K. Now I’m thinner and can run farther, but I still probably look like I’m going to die when I jump off the treadmill.

I hope to heck those girls don’t quit. I hope they can push past the pain and actually get in shape. Not to look better–like I said, they were both beautiful girls–but to become strong in body and mind, and to prove to themselves they can keep their promises to themselves.

I still can’t pinpoint what is the difference between a kept New Year’s resolution and one that dies in the womb. Why did I actually lose weight last year, when every other time I failed? Why am I motivated to run, when I always used to say ‘me no work out’? Because I can’t say ‘here is the cure’, I can’t judge the people who start, and then quit after a few weeks. It wasn’t a physical thing, because I don’t think I’m designed to run. Too short, too thick. I’m predisposed to be addicted to sugar, flour, any kind of crap food. I should still be fat.

I worked really hard–I do work hard–but maybe I’m also very, very blessed.

I mentioned that I had a whole list of New Year’s Resolutions. Well, when I made them I forgot that January is historically when I have a bout of seasonal depression. This year was no exception, with added anxiety and chest pain. I feel like I’m pulling out of it faster than last year, but in the meantime I’ve gone into survival mode. Hence almost no blogging, less running. Less of everything, except maybe sleep. Like I said to my sister today after an aborted 10K, you have to learn to listen to your body. I’m no good at that. But Sons of Earth, my next novel, is on schedule, and I have many months yet to get in fighting shape for my half-marathon (the big resolution of the year). I’m not ahead, but I’m still on track.

Each day is a new day. If your resolutions have all been broken, I encourage you to take stock of what’s important, and try again, and again, and again.

Dear Other Runner, Thanks for Being There

Dear other runner,
Just seeing your tracks
in the skim of snow
Made my legs stronger
Gave me strength to finish
Thanks for going before

This morning I ran my first 10k in more than a month, and my only outdoor 10K this winter. Parts of the path were very slippery, forcing me to slow to a shuffle to avoid falling on my backside. Everything had a light skiff of snow on it. Well into mile 4, I came upon footprints in the shallow snow. They were the definite tread of a runner’s shoes, with long strides and footfalls almost in line with each other.

Someone else had been there!

Post-run, not looking good!

I’d seen no one, been the lone crazy on the icy trail. The painful clench that I’ve had in my chest for nearly a month was returning, and my mind was screaming at me that I’d never make it all 6.2 miles. I’d been away from that distance too long. I’d gone soft. I was still sick.

But just knowing someone else had run that way was a reassurance. I held my pace. At the end of mile 5 I found tracks again. I kept going, spurred on by that invisible runner.

I finished my 10K. Despite the negative self-talk, my time was quite comparable to previous runs. Thanks, other runner.

Pain and Gain: A Canoe Story

What can a canoe portage teach us about New Year’s resolutions?

it was a muggy August day. Above us, grey rain clouds had blocked out the sun and left us to the sticky heat and the mosquitos.  We’d spent the weekend with a troop of teens, camped on a tiny island in the middle of Mud Turtle lake. Now my cousin Starr and I, the two female chaperones, pulled our canoe up on the far shore for the return trip.  But first, we had to make the one kilometre portage to the next lake.  Across that lake was where our vehicles–where civilization–was.

We were eight canoes, and the strong young men had enough to carry without the extra burden of our canoe.  I looked at Starr. “I’ll carry it.”

We’d portaged it halfway on the trip into Mud Turtle before one of the guys had taken pity on us. This time I wanted to go the distance. Our guides had coached us how to arrange our backpack as a platform the canoe could rest on. I’d prepared my pack for that purpose. So I shouldered my hiking pack and Starr helped me lift the canoe. They were cheap, fibre glass canoes–heavy to carry and hard to steer.  I staggered a little as my backpack bit into my shoulders.  Behind me, Starr hefted her pack, plus my extra baggage.  We started walking.

I forged ahead like a beetle, the canoe on top of me like a shell.  The point of the canoe shoved through the undergrowth as my feet navigated the narrow, climbing trail. I had already been sweating, now it poured down my back.  One of the guys passed me with his canoe over his head like it weighed nothing.

“Are you okay?” Starr asked behind me. The pots and pans she carried rattled together.

“Yeah,” I gasped.

A third of the way down the trail I stumbled.  Off balance, I dropped the canoe into the short bushes beside the trial. I groaned and rubbed at my shoulders.  My brother came alongside. “Do you want me to take it?”

“No!”

He helped me pick it up, and I began to walk again.

My shoulders were in agony.  The backpack was carrying the full weigh of the canoe, and transferring it through the straps into my tender flesh. I balanced the canoe with upraised arms, but they were turning to mush.

Two-thirds across, I heard my little brother’s voice.  “I can take it the rest of the way.”

But I was almost there, and I knew it.  “No!” I grunted, “If you take in now I’ll have all the pain and none of the reward.”

So I carried that canoe until I finally saw the silver water of Brereton Lake.  The path turned into a steep descent toward the water. Finally, I dropped the canoe. I’d done it.

All Pain, No Gain

My back was stiff and sore for days, and my shoulders were purple with bruises.  But that’s not what I remember. It’s that phrase: “I’ll have all the pain and none of the reward.”  Whatever pain-stricken, divine inspiration it came from, it stuck with me.

“It hurts. I’m tired,” I say in the fifth mile of my 10K.  “No, you’re too close!” If I quit, I get all the pain and none of the reward. Same thing goes with other challenges. Like at my job, I’ve went through a few season mistakes and lost confidence as I strained to learn and pushed myself too far. “Quit” came to mind. But I’d already had so much stress, and learned so much. If I quit, I’d get no reward. Eventually I overcame my challenges, and gained new influence and skill because of it.

Learn What Kind of Pain it is

Pain is a warning sign. It can’t be denied that if you are in pain, be it mental or physical, you are ‘red lining’. You’re nearing full capacity, and it may be time to back off.

Part of learning to run has been learning to discern what is just stiffness that will pass, and what is the early onset of an injury. For instance, I find that in the first couple miles my legs will be vaguely sore and I’m tempted to say, “This sucks. This hurts.” But by now I know that it will pass as the runner’s high takes over.

I’ve made some mistakes, such as running with a lung virus or pushing myself too hard on a pre-work run, and being sick during my shift. I ran with patellofemoral syndrome much longer than necessary, because I didn’t know something was actually wrong and that it could be fixed easily enough. A coach might have prevented much of this.

So I’m not telling you to be reckless.  But if you resolved to get in shape this year, and you’ve been hitting the gym, you are probably in the ‘all pain, no gain’ stage. Well suck it up, buttercup. If you don’t, you’ll have gone through all that pain for nothing. Give it a few weeks, and it will get better. Two weeks isn’t that long in the scope of things. And then you’ll also have increased flexibility, strength, weight-loss and mental sharpness. Do you really want to succeed? There is no magic bullet. You have to put in the time and endure the pain.

Is the pain worth the gain? Then don’t drop the canoe.

Someone is Watching You (So keep going)

“No runs in a vacuum. There is always someone watching you leave the house, dig it out, come back, and do it all over again. You are being watched by a roommate, a brother, a spouse. The driver of every passing car. You are being watched by future generations. My grandmother ran in college! someone might say of you one day. My great uncle took it up in his 30s and ran marathons into his 60s! We are inexorably entwined within each other’s influence. You may run by yourself, but no matter how early you start, no matter how remote your location, you never run alone”–Mark Parent.*

What he doesn’t say, but implies, is that you are a leader, simply by being a runner. Someone, be it your roommate or the dog-walker you blow by on the bike path, is watching you sweat and hurt, and grow strong. Not all, but some will say “I want to do that too” and will lead healthier, happier lives because of it.

But don’t stop at running, because not all can run. Do you work hard? Do you help others? Do you chase your dreams with courage and ambition? Someone is watching. My aunt opened her own business when she was my age, someone might say, so why can’t I? My friend published a book, so I can too. My Dad worked hard and provided for us, and I want to be like him. “We are inexorably entwined in each other’s influence”.

I hope this encourages you like it did for me. It’s only January 3, but some of you may have broken your New Years resolutions. Pick yourself up and try again tomorrow. You just might inspire someone to do the same.

Also, a big thanks to those who’ve encouraged me lately by telling me how much they enjoyed my book, or that my posts have been an inspiration to them. You add spring to my step!

* “A Mile in His Shoes,” Runners World, February 2010.

My Best Books of 2014

Which books changed my life in 2014?

I read thirty-six books this year, as of today. I hope to make it 37 before midnight tomorrow, if I can pound out the last of Plato’s Republic. Many of these volumes were forgotten the instant I put it back on the bookshelf, or shut off my Kindle.

Others changed me. I quoted new phrases. I modified my philosophy. I gained courage. I ate differently. Which were my most memorable books of 2014?

The Life-Changer: Trim Healthy Mama

This book, by Serene Allison and Pearl Barrett, set the tone for the entire year.  It was a year filled with fitness victories, as I lost nearly forty pounds, and gained a passion for running.

I have already written extensively on the diet and lifestyle espoused in the book Trim Healthy Mama.  You can read a summary of what it is and why I chose it here, some of my favourite benefits here, and more about my weight-loss and food addiction journey here.

Most-Quoted: Slaughterhouse 5

Though it wasn’t quite the page-turner that Divergent, the Maze Runner, and other popular novels I read this year, Slaughterhouse 5 lingers much longer.

After watching the Crash Course with John Green video discussing Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse 5, I was intrigued by the Tralfamadorian aliens, Billy Pilgrim’s complete unhinging from reality (and time and space), the fire-bombing of Dresden, and the ideas of time and free will.  It is also a strangely comedic book, considering the traumatic subject matter.

There was a lot of death this year, as there always is in this evil world. My method of dealing with this involved denial, impotent rage, helpless tears, prayer, and bouts of jaded weariness.  In those times, it was tempting to say ‘so it goes’ every time I’d heard someone died. I also gave thought to what time actually is, and how free we are to choose our destiny. I tend to oppose the Tralfamadorian idea of complete fatalism.

It is also no accident that the ‘Society of Immortals’ in the series I am writing makes their headquarters in Dresden.

Best Business Book: Rise of the Machines

How do you make yourself stand out in social media? How do you make your blog a success? Frankly, I was lost.

Rise of the Machines, by Kristen Lamb brought me from the dark ages of promo-tweeting, into the adventure of making friends through Twitter, Facebook and other social media platforms. I’m no social media wiz, but at least I have some idea of how to make the most of these resources and not bore everyone to death in the process. Particularly helpful was her blogging advice, which promotes a highly relatable style based on your personal interests, stories and experiences and not on your actual profession (because apparently only writers want to hear writers rant about writing).

The One That Haunts Me: Thank You for Your Service

I stumbled across Thank You for Your Service, by David Finkel in McLeans magazine while I was revising We are the Living for publication. It’s the story of several American soldiers and their families, who live with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, traumatic brain injuries, or physical injuries. It was probably intended as an expose of the inadequate care these men and women receive, but for me it was about seeing life through their eyes.

I was in the midst of writing Liam, the male lead of We are the Living, who has battled through the compound effects of a brain injury and PTSD and cannot quite break free of their stigma. This book sharpened my image of Liam, but it also showed my what a no-win situation his might be.  This, combined with some events in my family, shaped the conclusion of the story. I realized that a straight-up happy ending wasn’t in the cards for him, just like their was no quick fix for the families in Thank You for Your Service. But there was great opportunity for love, courage and redemption.

The Book from Left-field: The Way of the Fight

I found this autobiography of UFC champion Georges St. Pierre crammed into the teetering ‘Religion’ shelf of a an overcrowded used bookstore. I pulled it out and hee-hawed with my friends. They didn’t know who St. Pierre was, but were amused/embarrassed at the cover, which featured the fighter bare-chested and geared for the fight. I’d developed an interest in St. Pierre and the UFC after watching some pre-fight coverage on a TV at the local McDonalds. I was puzzled by what would motivate a man to make a career of beating people up on national television.  Here was my chance to find out.  It turned out, MMA fighting is much more complicated than that.

It’s less of a life-story and more an explanation of his ideology. St. Pierre comes across as a philosopher, a learner, and a man dedicated to a craft. In fact, much of what he said on conquering fear, managing risk, submitting to mentorship, and constant learning could be applied directly to writing.  I was in the thick of publishing We are the Living at the time, and choking on the fear of exposing my novel (and thus the inner workings of my mind) to an audience. The Way of the Fight turned out to be the medicine I needed.

The One I Wrote: We are the Living

How do you find peace and hope when you have no control over your life?

Kayla’s plans are as finely tuned as her cello, so when Liam joins her friends on their tour of Europe, she resents him.  The ex-soldier with a fragile psyche seems like a liability.  But when political turmoil in France explodes into a zombie apocalypse, their lives may depend on this warrior’s skills.

Their flight takes them to a tiny Italian community where a mysterious priest is curing zombies. There, Kayla and Liam’s shared horror draws them together.  But they aren’t the only ones who want the cure.

As the threat of the living eclipses the danger of the undead, they must decide whether to run, or to fight for those they love.

“Zombies Geralyn?” a friend said to me. “It’s not a zombie novel,” I always said, “It’s a love story that has zombies in it.” I relished writing scenes of gritty hand-to-hand combat between undead, the living and rebel/terrorist fighters. Snappy dialogue and off-beat humour was my joy. But it’s the relationship that develops between Liam and Kayla that I’m most proud of. You can pick it up here.

Other excellent books I read included: The Forgotten Trinity (White), Wheat Belly (Davis), The Amazing Connection Between Food and Love (Smalley), A Whole New Mind (Pink), The Lord of the Rings (my third read-through of the giant classic), Divergent (Roth), The Republic (Plato), and City of Bones (Clare).

What Did You Read?

I’m curious. What were the best books you read this year? I’m always searching for a great new read. Right now I’m in the market for a great novel. Was there a book that changed you this year?

Running and Reading, The Keys to Success?

Will Smith gives his two keys to success in life, and they’re gooders.  It’s a short video. Make sure to watch it.

 

Of course I love this video because I both run and read, and Will Smith just validated a good percentage of my existence.  But still…

Running

Even as an entry level runner, I’ve learned that running is as much a mental game (more?) as a physical one. First you overcome the voice that says “Its hot. It’s raining. My knees hurt. I want to sleep” and you lace up. Then as your legs grow rubbery and your lungs burn up in your chest, you shut up the ‘make the pain stop’ voice by saying, ‘I’ll run to the next corner,’ and then, ‘to the next corner’ until you’re home. When you finish a run, you build confidence and credibility with yourself. You did what you said you would. You conquered yourself. That compounds on itself. The negative voice becomes weaker as you continually shut it up. Conversely, it becomes louder as you let it win.

And you can do this all while wearing very tight pants.

Reading

Smith’s second key to success is reading. I doubt he means novels, though a solid novel can teach many lessons. You can learn almost anything by reading. I have a natural advantage here–reading comes easy. If you say ‘I can’t read,’ consider this. Tim Marks is a two-time best selling author, business leader and multimillionaire. He has dyslexia. He says, “When I read to myself, I would read it, and a moment later, I couldn’t remember what I had read. I couldn’t understand why the words looked as if they moved around on the page. I would struggle with the same word over and over.” As he entered the business world, his mentor, Orrin Woodward, told him he would have to begin reading or he would never make it.

So Tim began to read. He would read the book out loud to himself, and then summarize what he read, until he made it through the whole book. Eventually it became easier, still he says, “Three decades later, when I preach or speak at a leadership conference, I have to read from notes, and I still need to practice several times in advance to make sure that I understand the words so that they don’t jump around on the page. My reading still isn’t where it should be, but it’s a heck of a lot better than it was!”

Reading is a learned skill. As a bookworm, I had to train myself toward heavier reading.  But reading from a wide range of books stores up a bank of knowledge: financial wisdom, people skills, technical knowledge and inspiration can all be found on the page.

So you can absorb the wisdom of Dale Carnegie or Plato while sitting on the toilet. Been there, done that.

Do you agree with Will? Would you add any other keys?

Beginners’ Luck Runs Out

I’m a short, stocky, beginner runner.  Full disclosure here.  I make my runs sound epic, but they’re only as epic as a nine minute plus miler can make them.  I am a competitive, stubborn son of a gun who knows just enough to make me dangerous.  Dangerous to myself, that is.

I learned this the hard way on Saturday.

It was technically my third 5K, but the previous one, with the dubious title of ‘Electric Donkey’ was fun but not timed.  I was determined to prove myself this time around, and show myself what I could really do.  I visualized shaving a minute and fifteen seconds off my previous time.  Simple enough.  I’d been working on my speed and stamina.  5K was now a short run for me.

But practice and theory can only go so far.  After warm up I was amped and ready to go but everyone else was milling around by the registration tables and quibbling about where the inflatable finish line was supposed to be.  Time dragged on, and forty-five minutes after I’d been told the race was to start, we lined up.  I was a bundle of nerves by that time.  The air horn blared, and I bolted.

I was out of breath in minutes.  I thought it was nerves.  I’d settle in and find a rhythm.  But five minutes passed, then ten, and I was still struggling.  I know now it was because I was pushing myself far too fast, but I had nothing to gauge my pace by.  As we ran past a race marshal, I faintly heard her over my music: “Halfway there.”

That was when I knew I was in trouble.

In the final mile, my legs were so heavy I could only keep them moving by force of will.  My chest was ready to burst, and I was angry.  I ripped my headphones out of my ears and choked back tears.  It didn’t matter.  I was finishing, damn it.  These legs wouldn’t stop.

I saw the finish line and the clock.  The time was still under my goal time.  I tried to kick into a sprint, but all I could muster was a laboured trot.  I made it, just five seconds over my goal.  My sister told me, after the fact, that I looked pretty bad.  She has pictures to prove it–me, with my head back at an awkward angle as I stumble toward the line.

With Grandpa after the race.

I’m so embarrassed, but mostly I’m scared now.  I have another race next weekend.  What if I crash and burn at that one too?

Despite my pep-talks, research, and strategizing, my training run this afternoon was no better.  I was so angry and discouraged as I walked home afterward.  I had to force myself to quit beating myself up.  I had a bad day.  No, I had two bad days.  Live and learn, right?  I’m not good enough to be this mad.  But I am.

I have this term that I learned way back.  I call it ‘the wall’, or sometimes ‘the pain threshold’.  It means that point in which the mental or physical pain reaches a level that can no longer be ignored, and you have to decide to gut it out or quit.  In running, mental and physical seem to converge to create a perfect storm of torture.  And that’s just at my pitiful 3-5 mile distance.  I can’t imagine what 26 miles must be like.

This is the moment where your strength has failed you, and you dig in deep to see if you have something to keep you going.  This is where you win over yourself, or you become a has-been, a failed New Years resolution, a lost dream.  This is where you get to decide between “I tried to do that once” and “I did it.”

I guess I’m standing at the wall, now.

It’s a good thing I dropped cash on that 5K next weekend.  I’m too cheap to quit today, and too dang stubborn.  I might not do a personal best on Saturday, but I need to race again.  If nothing else to get over this fear and prove that this is just a speedbump, and greater things are yet to come.

 

 

 

My First 5K Race… Is it even called a race?

There was never a less epic race, but in my head it was a huge deal.

I’m still not sure a 5K is called a race, but friends have called it a marathon to which I would always say “It’s not a marathon!”

“So what do you call it?” they’d ask.

“I dunno. A race?”

The night before I watched Inception, and then tried to go to bed early. I couldn’t sleep—first because I was thinking and rethinking through the complicated storyline of Inception, and then because I was so dang amped up about the ‘race’ the next day. I got up before my six o’clock alarm and put on my gear.  In 45 minutes, I was driving Strawberry down the deserted road to the rural village where the 5K would take place.  My coffee churned in my stomach.

I got there far too early, but Grandpa was already there. If you’ve read my other posts about running, you might remember that Grandpa was the original runner in the family. He ran several full marathons, even in his sixties, and ran competitively into his seventies. He is highly active in the Manitoba Runners’ Association. So he’s pretty pleased that I’ve taken up the sport, to say the least.

He started advising me almost as soon as I stepped out of the car. “People are going to take off like a shot,” he said, “You just start out at a reasonable pace. You can pick them off later when they’re tired.”

I’d be lucky to, I thought.

Verna, who’d been my training partner by correspondence, showed up and we expressed our collective nervousness. I went through my usual stretching routine. There was still twenty minutes until the race began. I shivered from the cool morning breeze, and buckets of nervous energy.

Then, they called for us to come to the start. I shoved my headphone in my ear and began my tailored ‘Race Day’ playlist. They shouted out instructions for the course, but I couldn’t hear them. Then an air horn went off.

Oh! They’re starting? Okay. Off I go!

I set off at a lope, my heart pounding. People were passing me. I was panting in a hundred yards, bursting with adrenaline. Oh no, Oh no! went off in my head.

Easy. Settle down. Settle down. It’s okay. It’s just another run. Just another run. I settled into ‘cruising speed’ and found a rhythm.

One kilometre in, I could hear someone gasping for air behind me. I felt good—no fatigue, no burning in the lungs. Two kilometres, I passed someone who was walking. Just like Grandpa said, I picked off a couple of runners—and got picked off by a couple of runners. I was feeling really good.

Am I running too fast? Should I slow down? No, I can slow down later!

Around 3K, I passed a chick who was walking. As soon as I passed, she started running and passed me. A minute later, she was walking again. I passed her and never saw her again.

I turned the corner at the 4K sign and decided to pick up the pace just a little. Then, suddenly, I felt tired. Was there nothing left in the tank? Darn it!

But then I saw the corner before the finish, a turn into the school yard. Beyond it was the parking lot, and there was my family’s SUV. They were there to see me finish! I made the corner and sped up. There was the finish. I saw my family. I saw the clock. It was under my goal time. I broke into a dead run, ran past my family, and pumped my fist as I crossed the line.

And now it’s over.

I realize that ‘real’ runners can do so much more. There are people out there who can run 5K in half the time I did. When I realized this, I felt a bit depressed. I remind myself I’m a writer, ultimately, not a runner. That’s my call, as best I know it. But if I think that at the beginning of the summer I would have laughed at the thought of running 5K, or that six weeks ago I thought ten minutes was a long stretch to run, well… I’m floored.  Honestly, I still feel like a poser.

I started a new running program today, and I have another 5K in three weeks.  I’m not sure where this is taking me, but I’m excited to find out!