Starting Over, and Over, and Over

A few months ago, I stood with a group of neighbors beside a coffee truck in the park. We’d just participated in the first Sunday run/walk organized by a local realtor.

When I saw the flyer on Facebook, I was already toying with the idea of running again, and this seemed like it could be a good motivator.

As we waited for our drinks, one of the women asked the group, “What are everyone’s run routines?”

This was an interesting question. 

While the event was meant to attract both runners and walkers, all of the participants who had started at the same time ended up walking. Since I’d taken the “pets very much encouraged” part of the flyer to heart, I had our dog, Pearl, with me. Between trying to be neighborly, having concerns about running with a dog who likes to pull, and not being confident in the route laid out online, I decided to go with the flow.

The participant who was asking this question had shown up a little bit late and ran on her own.

I let a couple of others go first: “I run a mile a day,” “I walk weekday mornings,” “I’m training for a 5K, so I thought I should try walking first.”

Everyone seems to have an easy answer, but my truth is more complicated. ““I’m not sure this is exactly a routine. I ran a half-marathon several years ago, took a break because of an injury, started running again, got Covid, started again, got cancer, and I guess I am starting again.”

I’m always hesitant to answer a question with “I had cancer.” People never know what to say, and their response often shifts the direction of the conversation. Here, I was relieved when the conversation continued to flow.

The initial question, however, stuck with me, and I’ve continued to think about what is more a running journey than a running routine for me.

The first time I really ran, I was living with my parents after college. Prior to that, running had been either a punishment in sports or a part of the dreaded conditioning routine in gymnastics. As an adult, I look back and see so many missed opportunities to foster a love for what can be part of a lifelong fitness routine.

After college, I decided to sign up for a local Fourth of July 5K. I don’t really remember training. I went out and finished the hot and hilly course in a little less than an hour. At the time, I didn’t realize how slow this actually was.

I started running more after that. I moved into a one-bedroom apartment a few towns away and experimented with running as a way to lose weight. I was slow, I wasn’t really training for anything, and the thing I remember most is a colleague telling me to think about my brain while running, because it would help me forget about breathing and fatigue. That didn’t work. Instead, as I thought more about my brain, I thought about it sloshing around in my head. I felt anxiety about the movement of my brain in my skull, and my heart rate went up.

A few years later, I did a Couch-to-5K program. I was surprised when I could actually run for most of the 3 miles. I participated in a few more 5Ks, but I didn’t have a particular goal in mind. I ran here and there.

Before my wedding in 2010, I increased my trips to the gym and my runs. Again, I was trying to lose weight and look fit for the big day. 

After the wedding, I continued to incorporate running into my fitness routine. I completed 2 sprint marathons and a variety of 5Ks. I joined a running club that met every Wednesday at a local bar. Running became a larger part of my identity. I still wasn’t fast, but I was more consistent.

Then, the challenges got bigger…

Pregnancy

… and so did I. At the end of 2013, I got pregnant. I ran through the first half of the pregnancy, but slowed down after that at the advice of my doctor.

Several months after giving birth, I started running again. I felt like my insides were going to fall out. I thought my body would never return to normal.

But, there was one participant – Andrew – who gave me extra motivation. He had an aggressive form of cancer and was being treated with an aggressive regiment of chemotherapy. Still, he showed up week after week, even after chemo. If he could run, I could run. (Yes, there is some faultiness to that logic, and now that I’ve been through cancer and chemotherapy, I have mixed feelings about seeing such a struggle as inspirational. However, at the time, I was gripping onto any scrap of motivation that I could get. Even later, when I was undergoing treatment myself, I found a model in the grace with which Andrew lived his life.)

Half-Marathon and the Parade of Ailments

As I continued running, I faced physical issues that would sideline me for a couple days or weeks at a time: an issue with my kneecap popping out of place, a bout of plantar fasciitis. I would stop and tend to my body, and start again. 

In 2019, I trained for a half-marathon. I would have never thought I could run 13.1 miles, but the more that I ran, the better the distance felt. I could explore places I had never been before. I ran and ran, and then right around the time of the race, my knee issues got worse and I began to have a terrible pain in my foot. I thought I might have a stress fracture. I would run and ice. I was too close to the finish line.

Bib and Medal from Stilly Half 2019

I ran the race and made an appointment at the doctor. They took x-rays, but didn’t think it was a fracture. They gave me anti-inflammatories and told me to rest. 

I meant to take 6 weeks off. It was probably more like a year.

Colorado

Finally, I started again. We moved to Colorado in 2021, and the elevation (over 6000 feet) meant that it was harder than it had been before. It took a while to build back up my distance. I ran before work, and I considered signing up for another half marathon. 

Running in Colorado Means Lingering Snow on 50 Degree Days

Covid

In the fall of 2023, right before the weekend of the race (I was planning on a last minute sign up), I got Covid. My temperature skyrocketed to over 102 F. I could barely make it down the stairs to prepare dinner for my son.

I started running again, but this time, my heart rate skyrocketed every time I got going, and it didn’t come down as quickly as before. I took it slow. Runs turned into walks. My fitness got better a little bit at a time.

Cancer

Finally, I started running again in the summer of 2024. I felt weaker, though, and sometimes a little dizzy. This was just part of getting back into shape, I told myself. I built back up to around 3 miles. I thought, maybe I could train for another race. 

At the end of the summer, I returned to work, continuing to run at 6AM. And then, after persistent headaches and a series of tests, I was diagnosed with leukemia. 

As I’ve written before, I continued to walk, but running was out of the question. For the next month, I lived in the hospital, pumped full of poison that was meant to kill the cancer, but was at the same time destroying my body.

Starting Again

This brings me back to a few months ago at the coffee truck. After returning home last March (after 3 hospital stays and a required stay in an apartment near the hospital), I started walking fairly regularly. I even jogged here and there. 

Then, a few weeks ago, with the question about running routines still in my head, I printed out a 10K training program. 

For the first few weeks, this plan has you run/walk. This week, it has me running 1.5 minutes, walking 30 seconds for 15 cycles. I find my mile time is faster when I do this. I can run faster after a break, and I feel more confident pushing myself when I know a break is coming soon.

I’m not breaking any records, but I am getting faster. 

Recently, I realized that the run/walk approach is a little microcosm for my larger pattern of running. I run, I walk. I start again and again and again. Sometimes there are challenges: hills that must be climbed, smoke in the air from out-of-state fires, a sore knee. Sometimes, I have to take an unscheduled break (either for the day or for one of the 15 cycles). Sometimes, I have to repeat a week of training, because I’m not quite ready to move onto the next distance. But always, I start again.