The story:
Harry and Sally (names and identities have been changed) are a married couple in town who have decided they want to start running. They are both 32 years old and, for all intents and purposes, running newbs. They have not run in a very, very long time. More specifically, one of them sort of ran a 5K eight years back, and the other has not run since his football days in high school some 15 years ago.
They occasionally walk around their neighborhood in east Urbana, but mostly they work, come home, veg out in front of the TV or computer at night, and sleep. They are like many regular people. They do not own wicking clothes, and they do not know what pronation means, nor should they. They are non-runners. Now, they want to change.
One day in February, Sally, who works for the University and is a Ph.D. candidate, told me that she had decided to run a marathon this October. She mentioned that she has all of these friends who run, myself included, and she felt inspired to do the impossible. She and a group of her college friends had conspired to run the Chicago Marathon together. It did not matter that all of her friends were runners, and they had already begun training for the race. Sally has decided to run/walk a marathon with absolutely no prior running experience.
You can imagine my delight at the news—a fresh newb looking to lace up. Being the supportive friend that I am I asked, “Are you *bleeping* crazy?” Sally has no long term running experience, none whatsoever. Yet, here she is saying she wants to run a marathon. It is one thing to decide that you’re going to start running; it is something entirely different to jump feet first into one of the most grueling running events.
Let it be known, being the good friend that I am, that I informed her that this was dangerous, potentially life threatening, extremely painful, and perhaps the worst mistake in running she could ever make. No one should go from complete non-runner to marathoner in the span of eight months. It takes years of running to build the base of endurance and the tolerance for pain one needs to set sights on a marathon. Most of that time can be managed through exercise over a long period of time. In Sally’s case, she’s starting from scratch.
Not to be deterred, Sally said she was committed to doing this. She could do it, even if she had not yet begun training for a race that is only eight months away. Her goal is to finish in six hours, giving her a 30 minute window before they close the route. Her optimism was almost contagious, and I found myself—maybe not recommending that she do this—but finding ways to encourage her to start running. Just running… not doing a marathon. Because really, if you’re going to do 26.2 miles, you’ve got to take the first step.
Harry, on the other hand, has taken this running idea with a very healthy grain of salt. He recognizes the benefits of cardio exercise and the limitations of his body. He’s short and round, not unlike John “the Penguin” Bingham. That is not to say he is large or overweight. His body is built for other sports, like football. He’s supportive of Sally’s running goal, but he takes his own foray into running with more tempered expectations. He wants to run, but he is not necessarily interested in becoming the next Haile Gebrselassie. He wants to be able to run a 5K now and then. Where Sally’s approach is quite optimistic, Harry is more realistic. He’s interested in getting his toes wet before diving headfirst into a shallow pool.
Harry and Sally are a study in contrasts.
In my recent interview with John “the Penguin” Bingham, author and runner who started running at age 43, I asked if he had any advice for Harry and Sally. Bingham recommended that they, “Start slowly. Be kind, gentle, and patient with yourself.” Any runner knows that this is an absolute truth, and I hope Harry and Sally will take heed.
I think there is a little bit of each of us in Harry and Sally. We all set ridiculous goals for ourselves, be it to stop smoking or drinking, to eat better, to get fit, or to spend more time doing what we love, whatever that may be. Sometimes, those are impossible goals, but we set them because somewhere deep down we know we can accomplish them. Maybe we’re not world record runners. We don’t have to be. What we do is put one foot in front of the other. We won’t achieve the goal of becoming a runner unless we put on our running shoes and take that first step out the front door.
I’ll follow Harry and Sally in the coming weeks and months as they take their steps into the running world, from getting their first pair of running shoes, to training for their first 5K, to documenting Sally’s foray into 26.2 miles. If she makes it. (Of course she will make it.)