Two years, 30 pounds, and one husband ago, I began run/walking. I walked up hills and ran down them. One mile, then two miles, then four. I sweated and puffed and gasped. I entered my first 5K race and finished in 48 minutes. That first year I participated in three more races and the thrill of crossing that finish line in less time than the last race never got old.
Running was hard on my knees and hips so I saw a chiropractor. His popping and cracking of my spine provided a temporary fix, but something told me it could be better, that hurting wasn’t normal. I saw too many people my age and older who were in better shape and were more joyful runners. I turned to the corporate behemoth Google for answers. It didn’t take long to discover that my running posture was to blame so I consciously changed it. Lo and behold, the pain in my hip subsided! I pushed harder, but a new posture wasn’t going to relieve the pain in my left knee so I gritted my teeth and took the advice of my youngest daughter to “run through the pain, Mom.”
In addition to run/walking, I took up boot camp and Zumba©. The weight began to fall off. My pants sagged in the rear. My arms lost their padding. I looked good in clothes! (Not as good without them, but after all, I am 63.) I felt better mentally and discovered that missing a day of physical activity made me cranky.
I dropped running from my routine for social reasons. Running is a solitary activity. It is easier to find people to walk with than to run with, and talking is way easier when you aren’t struggling to breathe. This year I have walked in three races, all with my walking buddy. We tackled a half marathon (13 miles) from the Arbuckle Mountains to Ardmore (cleverly called the A2A) and finished in about three-and-a-half hours. What a grand feeling to find out what we were capable of! I had to push myself the last three miles, but I would have crawled over that finish line rather than give up.
Our next race was a mud run. For 3.2 miles (5K), we climbed, we crawled, we slithered, we tromped, we jumped through creeks, mud holes, 15-foot walls, rope fences, swinging tires, and an ice bath. We squished when we walked, and we gave away our shoes when we finished. We were eight-year-old kids again, and it was grand!
Since we had walked 13 miles, we figured walking a 10K (6.4 miles) would be a piece of cake, so we signed up for the Fireball Classic on the Fourth of July. I walked the course several times before the race to get in shape. No problem. There weren’t many of us walking, but I bet there will be more next year. Both of us got medals for our age group. I learned that if you live long enough, you’ll come in first!
The latest race was Color Me Rad in Oklahoma City. My oldest grandson ran in that one, too. He’s the third grandchild to go with me. He made sure to hit the color stations just right and ended up multi-colored from head to toe. I have a feeling it won’t be the last time he runs.
My walking buddy says we’re gonna walk the Route 66 race in November – the whole marathon (26 miles). I hope they have lots of Port-a-Potties along the way.
