I don’t like playing sports. I don’t like sweating. Or running. Or being hot. I don’t like having to block people or throw things. My aim is just terrible. My balance isn’t that great either, and I have weak ankles. I came to terms that I was not athletic in the early ’90s. It was second grade and I played soccer (with ThisOrdinaryDay’s Sam, actually). From stories and home videos, I learned that I spent more time picking weeds and making necklaces than playing. My dad said I ran like a girl. I don’t even know what that means. I also wore jeans to games. Apparently we didn’t have a uniform — or I just decided that I didn’t do uniforms. Either way, I looked ridiculous. And thus was the end of my foray into sports (at least by choice).

So deciding last-minute to run a 5K with my coworkers recently was uncharacteristic. Some might even say shocking. Or a lie.

The Corporate Challenge is an annual walk/run in Central Park. It’s held in other states and across the world to raise money for local not-for-profit organizations. Some people take it competitively with hopes of making it to the finals. I just wanted free T-shirts.

When “race day” arrived, I was vigilant about getting verbal agreements from my coworkers that we’d all walk together. I’d even promised glowsticks to walkers. Even the people who enjoyed running had decided to take it easy. So as we changed into our team shirts, took pictures and did exaggerated stretches in the office, I was under the impression that we were all walking.

But as we left Times Square and walked to Central Park, the stirrings started that my art department friends were going to run. Psh. No glowsticks for them. Whatever. By the time we reached our meeting point, the majority of my coworkers had said they were going to run. I joined up with two women in Advertising who, like me, refused to run. When one asked if I was sure I wouldn’t run, I told her I don’t run. Ever. And this is why.

I started having terrible foot pains during ballet class in sixth grade. After X-Rays and CAT scans, I found out that two bones in my right foot were rubbing together. In an attempt to fix the problem, I wore a big, black walking cast that came up to my knee for my entire seventh grade year and a semester after I had surgery in eighth grade. As annoying as it was, it did exempt me from everything I hated in gym class — running, team sports and group showers. This continued through high school gym classes and meant I would never have to run. Which was fine, because heavy impact still hurt.

My foot problem was a perfectly acceptable excuse for gym class, but close to a decade later, I was still using it. My poor logic assumed that because it had hurt in the past, it would always hurt. And I let myself think that far too long.

I recently read a post from my blog friend Bridget and a book by Randy Pausch, a professor dying of cancer. Their words really put into perspective the way I look at challenges and daily tasks. I began to notice how I blow simple things out of proportion and devote entirely too much time to complaining about them. Pausch makes a point of asking if you’re spending your time on the right things. I don’t want to add up how much time I’ve wasted debating myself about flossing, washing dishes or taking out the trash. It would’ve been more efficient to do the actual task than think about it (which is another point he makes: don’t complain, just work harder).

And it’s what Bridget describes as giving something 100 percent… not being tentative and excusing yourself, but being dedicated no matter what. Agonizing about a simple task was ridiculous and such a waste of time until I decided that the issue was not under debate. Bridget was right. It makes things so much easier when you’re not fighting with yourself about them.

I suppose it was my new frame of mind that influenced me the day of the Corporate Challenge. My coworkers and I, along with 15,000 other people, took our places. Lyndsay — who recently completed a half-marathon — promised me that she was not a fast runner and that I could keep up with her by power walking. So with Lyndsay’s continued encouragement and reassurance that they weren’t going to be moving very fast, the two Advertising ladies and I joined the runners.

Just before the race began, it started raining. First just sprinkles; then it was constant. I put my hair into a ponytail to avoid weather-related catastrophes and hoped that our thin (and very ugly) company T-shirts (which were white and plain on the front except for a small logo) would hold out through this weather.

The three powerwalkers decided that we’d start the race off jogging because it would be crowded and crazy that we didn’t want to get trampled. But the funny thing was, once I started jogging, I realized it wasn’t as nearly as horrible as I thought. Even though my body was not used to this, I didn’t collapse or cramp up or pass out. I wasn’t wheezing or out of breath. Actually, it wasn’t bad at all.

So I ran. And continued to run. For three and a half miles.

The rain continued to pour the entire race. I was soaking wet. My shorts bunched together, my ugly shirt started weighing me down and they both stuck to my skin. A previous version of myself would’ve been miserable, maybe even would have left when it started raining before the race. But I wasn’t hot, and I wasn’t sweating. Not to mention I had beautiful views of Central Park and coworkers who kept by me through it all. Two women mentioned that every time they looked at me, I was always smiling. I guess I just couldn’t hide how happy I was to actually be doing this.

We didn’t talk much, which was fine because I was busy in my own head thinking about what a momentous occasion this was. We didn’t take any pictures either, like I did last year when the walk turned into an impromptu photo shoot. But I can tell you that the Corporate Challenge was a wonderful bonding experience, and one that I never expected to have. We crossed the finish line together. Unfortunately, our ugly T-shirts with the tiny logo were unrecognizable, so the announcer said, “Here come people in white shirts crossing the finish line.”

For the rest of the night, my body felt the best it ever has. I was on an endorphin high. My lungs felt expansive. My legs felt strong. My abs felt toned. Even when I stretched in my sleep, I could still feel the wonders the run had on my body. And my foot didn’t hurt. At all.

Had it not been for the encouragement of my coworkers and my recent reading material, I would never have believed in myself to accomplish such a personal feat. Which leads me to wonder what else I’m capable of that I’ve overlooked or been afraid to try. Now that I’ve overcome such a long-standing obstacle, I’m ready to challenge myself even more to find out what I’m capable of.

And maybe next year I’ll use the glowsticks to encourage my coworkers to run with me.

3 Responses to “No looking back”

1. Kizzie Says:
   July 3rd, 2008 at 10:47 pm

   This is a wonderful thing that you accomplished with the challenge! Maybe when you come to visit, you can go to Red Dogs Dog Days with me and do a little running

2. angeline Says:
   July 4th, 2008 at 10:31 pm

   i celebrate your run!

3. This Ordinary Day » Office Space Says:
   August 14th, 2008 at 12:02 am

   [...] her even if we weren’t in a car together for seven hours. She’s also who sparked me to run the 5K; and Michael and I have been told we behave like brother and sister, especially with our never [...]

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