A comeback story, one mile at a time
The wind whips through my hair and the sun beats down on the path ahead. And I can’t help but wonder: how did I ever stop running in the first place? Aside from the sore legs and the heavy breathing, running has become one of my happy places. Me — the girl who once couldn’t jog more than a few seconds. Somehow, I’ve grown to love it.
I started running in 2012 after months of talking myself out of it. Excuses piled up until one day I finally laced up and went. 2013 turned into a banner year: evenings at the track, early mornings on the canal path, even trudging through snow just to get my miles in. I set personal records left and right and, that July, ran my first half marathon — a finish line I once thought impossible. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more accomplished.
Then came the “short break” that turned into almost nine months. I told myself I’d pick it back up after winter. I hate the treadmill and I hate the cold, so I let the days slip away.
But here’s the thing: there’s nothing quite like the high of beating your own best time, running a distance you once couldn’t, or crossing a finish line. That’s why, even now, as my legs ache after a rough five-mile run/walk, I know the pain means I’m back at it. Three weeks ago, when the weather finally broke in New York, I hit the pavement again. It’s been hard — humbling, even. Nine months ago I could run 13.1 miles. Today I’m fighting through two. But I know the rhythm will come back.
My first race of the year, a 5K, is just over a week away. The thought of pinning on a bib again, standing shoulder-to-shoulder at the start line, crossing another finish — that’s what I’m chasing. Few feelings compare.
So what am I doing now? Sunday long runs with a friend. Short neighborhood runs to recover from the long ones. Pushing through the soreness, happy because it means I’m rebuilding. Running may be simple, but it’s never been small to me. It was the mountain I thought I could never climb. And once you’ve proven yourself wrong, you keep climbing.
Running taught me that I’m stronger than I used to be. And every mile I fight through now is proof.
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