A Frickin Mile

Hello. I am going to make a confession. I have never successfully run a mile.

The first time I was asked to run a mile was 5th grade.  There was no preparation for this, and I can only assume this was by design.  For whatever reason, during the 2001-2002 school year, the "President's Challenge" program required that 5th grade students be asked to run a mile once at the beginning of the year and a second time at the end of the year. The school would post everyone's finishing times on a bulletin board in order to honor (read: shame) them. Now, as a young pudgy child with anxiety, this plan did not do a lot to set me up for success.

Actual photo of myself in 5th grade (right)

The actual directions we were given were "run." So, I started out running as fast as I could.  Of course, by this I mean as fast as I could without looking silly or allowing any part of my body to jiggle or drawing attention to myself in any way whatsoever. Pretty soon, I started to get that side pain you get when you do running that you don't normally do. I was trying to suppress heavy breathing, a very noticeable behavior that would make an overweight and already easy target certain prey to 5th grade peers. So, I did what I do when the walls are closing in on me and there is no other way out. It may have been a panic attack. It may have been running induced nausea.  The truth is lost to the ages. I went to the nurse until the class was over.

This scenario played out at the end of the year as well. By 6th grade, I knew the holy grail of excuses for gym glass: lady problems. From then on, the name of the game was avoidance. The Cherry Hill Public School district has no documented mile run times for me.

In my adult life, running is not something I need to do. Most of my day is spent sitting at a desk. I don't need to catch any buses, and it is rare for something or someone to chase me. I've had boyfriends here and there who were interested in running as a hobby, but I never tried it with them more than once or twice. If I got tired quickly, or breathed heavily, or jiggled, I was 10 years old and embarrassed and wanted out. I married another non-runner, and up until recently we have been pretty content with our sedentary lifestyle.  Grubhub is a thing. We bought what is honestly the best couch I've ever napped on.  We have Netflix, Hulu, AND Amazon Prime.

It's essentially a large twin size bed.

 However, my weight has skyrocketed.  Call it baby weight, newlywed weight, food addiction, I get winded from walking up stairs.  My office is on the second floor, and I've had people ask me if I'm okay when I arrive. I've also been asked if I'm pregnant, like, an inappropriate amount of times ( >0 is an inappropriate amount, by the way.) I've committed to my avoidance by creating a self-deprecating depression-comedy persona, and it is getting hard to maintain. I have trouble sleeping. Previously managed mental health symptoms are reemerging. I binge eat. I'm always tired. And now, it might stand between me and something I've been working toward for a long time.

So now, at long last, I'm gonna run a frickin mile, damnit. Read about it.