I have been around runners all of my life. My father and brother were both members of their high school track and cross country teams and my brother continued running throughout his adult life. My husband was on his high school and college track teams and later participated in the corporate Olympics. He continues to be a runner today. One of my sons was a member of his middle school and high school cross country teams. My other son was a four-year member of his high school cross country team.
In spite of all of this influence, I have never been a runner. In college my roommate and I decided to go running one night but after a couple of laps around the track across the street we collapsed in our dingy apartment, sweating, coughing and panting, never to attempt it again. When I was living in San Diego my future husband supported my attempts to become a runner. In those days, my boss at the bank also encouraged us to run with him after work. It never lasted more than a few blocks and a couple of months.
In my 30s I ran around the neighborhood for awhile but I was busy having babies and being a mother, as well as a returning college student so I didn't keep it up. In my 40s I purchased a treadmill and began walking and eventually running in the garage while watching television. When the treadmill broke, I started running every other day early in the morning before work. Throughout my forties and fifties, I ran a few months at a time but would fall out of the habit with any excuse (illness, surgery, the wind).
Now I'm 56 years old and am making one last stab. I've agreed to run a 5K with my niece this summer. That agreement, along with my ever tightening pants and the new running shoes I got for Christmas have been sufficient inspiration for me to begin running again. It's official: I've run three days a week for the entire month of January 2012. I'm on my way.
