I never would have thought that I would call myself a runner. Sure, I could run on occasion. But becoming a runner? That was an entirely different matter. When I decided to run the Cowtown half-marathon, I didn't do so to become a runner. I did so to challenge myself, to add a new focus, to strengthen my body and mind. I didn't know if running would become habit. But it is more than a habit now. Even if I run only a couple times in a week, I am stil a runner. I enjoy it. I crave it.
I ran my first 15k this weekend. I planned to run six of the nine plus miles and walk the remainder. Like the half marathon, I decided to run the 15k at the suggestion of my aunts. So when Sunday morning came around, I struggled to get up and find the motivation to drive to Dallas for the joyous event. It was in the low 40s and the sun was barely peeking over the horizon when I started my trek to White Rock Lake. The moment I stepped in my aunts' home, they started handing me new clothes to wear. Proper socks. Proper pants. A proper shirt that wicks away the sweat. They handed me my running number. I was amazed by the number of people gathering at the starting line. some were clearly serious runners edging their way to the front of the line. One woman was wearing short spandex running shorts and a running bra. Despite the cold and the goosebumps covering her body, she planned to run the full nine miles fast enough to not need extra warmth. She was the second place female.
I started clipping along with my aunt. We chatted and manuevered around slower runners and moved aside for faster runners. The normally strenuous first three miles went by rather quickly. It suddenly didn't seem like it would be tough to run six miles. I passed mile marker 4, 5, and 6. I could make it to 7. Seven passed by quickly. Well, if I could just make it to 8... I told my aunt this and she laughed. "Eight?! You can do the whole thing." I spent most of the last mile running alone. And right when I wanted to start walking, I caught sight of two Dallas police officers along the path. They were high-fiving the runners as they passed. Once our hands met, I knew I had to finish. These people believed I was a runner. I went through the finish line with one of my aunts cheering me along. I did it. I ran my first race and the longest distance I've ever run.
Today I set out for my run, alone, without the excitement of a race. The first two miles were tough, mostly uphill and against the wind. It was hard to motivate myself. But I kept going, because I'm a runner. Toward the end of my run I passed two other runners. We waved at each other. They didn't question my allegiance to the sport. They just saw me as a runner. Because I am.
