Thirty-eight years ago

I have thought long and hard about what made me take those first running steps as a senior in high school in the spring of 1971, and can't come up with any one specific reason or incident. It was probably a combination of things and the fact that it was the early 70s that fueled my desire to lace up a pair of white Keds sneakers, don grey sweats and try my legs out on the cinder track behind the school that spring.

A few female friends joined me that day and I remember talking to the guy's track coach asking for guidance. He told us to jog around the track four times and that would equal a mile.
I had to walk up the school stairs backwards the next day as my shins hurt so badly.

But it was a start. And the start of something big for me.
Instead of hanging out in study hall I would ask to go to the library and read Sports Illustrated instead. The articles on running were probably few and far between and the big names at the time for men were Frank Shorter, Dave Wottle and of course Bill Rogers. Women who got some press consisted of Nina Kuscsik, Kathy Gibbons, Miki Gorman and Jacqueline Hansen.

Here's a couple of tidbits for you.
In 1972 only eight women ran and finished the Boston Marathon.
In 1977 it was up to 140.

That was the year I ran my very first marathon. The Fiesta Bowl up in Phoenix. I came limping in at 3:55 and never knocked much time off of that in subsequent races. I had no idea how to "train" for a marathon except run high mileage like the pros were doing. I never kept track of how many races I ran (10ks, 15ks, marathons) or what my times were.
I ran because I loved it.
And I ran because I wanted to be faster.

I really never went over 60-70 miles per week as I was teaching full time and didn't have the time or energy.
Long runs were of course on the weekends and consisted mainly of being out on trails somewhere surrounding Tucson.
I liked trails and started hanging with a group who suggested the Grand Canyon crossing, Pikes Peak, Catalina Island Marathon and others.
I of course limited my running while pregnant and upped the swimming when I started feeling like a beached whale.
Injuries and illness took me out at times, but I have continued to run a few miles each week if I can fit it in and if I know it won't contribute to further injury or illness.

Running has taken me places I probably would never have seen were it not for a race/event held there.
It has fulfilled my need to explore and find out what is beyond the next bend or over the hill.
It has been a way to figure things out and wake up my brain and calm me down for a good night's sleep.
It has been a way for me to not worry (too much) about what I eat and how my clothes are going to fit or what my cholesterol levels are going to be.
It has helped give me confidence in situations I would probably have cowered in if I weren't a runner.

If you were to watch me head out the door the three days a week I currently run, the first few hundred yards are not what one would consider "running" by most standards.
I am stiff and sore and yes I am old.
But every once in awhile I have those moments, where I reach full stride, breathing is effortless, joints have become fluid again and I feel like I am flying.
It's the best feeling in the world.

I recently went into a running store for new shoes and complained about my latest injury, a pulled calf muscle.
When I told the owner of the store how long I have been running he said "congratulations".

I really never thought of it that way.

Hopefully there will be thirty-eight more years for me to get out the door and down a road somewhere.