“I’m sailing! I’m a sailor!”
That is usually the first thought I have when I think of
Lake Winnipesauke, NH (thanks Bill Murray!) But, as much as I love What About
Bob, my personal connection to Lake Winnipesauke is deeper.
While I was settling into life as a grad student in Boston I
was trying to figure out how to have some balance in my life. One day a good
friend of mine invited me to go to a party. Turns out this party was not like
most parties. This was a feet themed party – “sweet feet” was the theme. There
were even feet shaped gingerbread cookies. And the goal was to convince people
(against their better judgment, and coerced by recent consumption of sugar ;) to commit to running a half marathon on team Sweet Feet.
I was convinced I was only there for the cookies, and maybe
to make a few new friends. But, after watching the inspiring video about the
team from the previous year there was a glimmer of possibility. Who doesn’t
want to be a part of something bigger than themselves? Or to conquer a fear or
something that seems impossible?
When I left I told myself something crazy: if I could get up
the next morning and run the mile from my apartment to Davis Square and back
without stopping, I would pay the significant sum ($45 – hey, I was a poor,
starving student!) and commit to the race.
Just to add a little perspective, in college I had taken a
jogging class. Our final was a 10k, which at that point was the farthest I’d
ever run at one time. So, this was going to about double that distance if I
committed to the half marathon. And even more telling, I was committing to get
up in super early to run outdoors. In Boston. In February. It was a wicked cold
and snowy winter, and I think part of me was sure that there was no way I could
succeed, and then I’d be off the hook from running.
Somehow, I pulled myself out of bed and pulled on warm
running clothes and headed out the door. I got to Davis Square okay, and then
when I turned around to run back I knew it was going to be rough. When I
stopped at the top of my street to stretch and then walk home, I thought I was
going to die! My lungs no longer knew how to function. Even though I had run
there and back, I was sorely tempted to give up right then based on how
terrible my mile run had gone.
Then I mapped it. Turns out I’d actually run 2.25 miles. Say
what!?! I knew I had to do it – I had doubled my required distance, and at the
halfway point I had felt fine.
Three months and dozens of miles later, I was picked up by
my carpool and we made our way up to New Hampshire to run 13.1 miles.
I started out running with two friends who are much faster
than I am. After about a mile I knew if I was to meet my goal of running the
whole time, I couldn’t stick with them too much longer. After about another
mile they knew that if they were going to meet their goal of running in under 2
hours they could no longer stay with me. So I waved them on, and found myself
alone in the middle of a crowd of people.
Since I had trained almost entirely alone, I didn’t mind
running alone during the race either. The scenery was magical. I loved running along that lake. I
loved having trees overhead for so much of the course. And I was incredibly
grateful for the terrible hill coming up Chestnut Ave near my first place in Boston
– turned out I was better prepared for the hills along the course than I had anticipated.
Running was also such a great, introspective time for me,
and it was powerful for me to look back over the months of training and
preparation that led up to that moment.
As I approached the end, I was very proud of myself. Even
when I signed up, I felt this goal was absolutely unreachable. And here I was,
so close to completing this seemingly insurmountable challenge.
With the finish
line in sight, I realized this was one of the first things I did 100% for me.
Not because someone expected me to. Not because it would make it more likely
for me to reach some different goal. But because I wasn’t sure I could do it,
and I wanted to try.
I cried as I crossed that finish line and realized just how
true it is that we can do hard things if we put in the effort and time.
I often wear the shirt they gave me as a reminder – hard
things can be done!
