There it was: half-cracked, barely legible, and often covered in mud. That little, annoying eight-by-eight-inch spot. It was faded and often hard to find, with peeling green paint and chipped edges. And it had become my biggest running enemy.
“It” was Mile-Marker 6.2 on my running route. It lay at the bottom of a short hill, and I hated it. (Although, I should also note that I hated its sister mark, “6.4,” just as much. Mile-Marker 6.4 was at the top of the hill. A steep hill.)
I had just moved to a new city, and I was training for my fourth marathon. Why this spot was so evil remained a mystery to me: Sure, the section was uphill- but so were the three miles before it. Its incline was a little greater, but not remarkably so. But, for whatever reason, this small .2-mile section was creaming me.
I. wanted. it. DEAD. (Not that I know how that could apply, but you get the gist.)
And there was no escaping it. This little bit of torture lay shortly before the last two miles from my home. There was no other running route I could take to avoid it.
It also did not matter if I had run ten or two miles that day. I would (ALWAYS!) find myself unable to push through this hill. Chest burning, legs aching, I would walk every time.
It haunted my running life, and I pretty much became obsessed.
So, this is the point in my story where I describe my “Rocky” break-through moment, right? The one where I tell you that one day I toughed-it out and conquered the hill? And each day it got easier until, looking back, I cannot imagine that such a small, insignificant thing could have once held such power over me?
Wrong.
That is what I wanted to happen. That is what I expected to happen.
Here is what happened:
Soon it began to plague me mentally, as well. At the first bit of fatigue during any run, I would start to get images of Mile-Marker 6.2 in my head. If I was already tired at mile seven, how would I ever get up the hill at the end of my run? I would remember how many times I could not make myself run it. This thought sapped me of energy.
Within weeks, that small .2-mile section of road was ruining even 18- and 20- milers. Seven miles in, and I would feel overcome simply because I knew what was waiting- that dastardly little climb, the one that made me walk. I found myself walking earlier and earlier during my runs. My training got in trouble.
I realized it was mostly mental. That it was preventing me from feeling successful. I could run twelve miles, but if I walked that hill, I came home feeling like a failure. I began to feel like a failure so often, I decided that if something did not change in a week, the marathon was out of the picture.
And that’s where I was when an idea hit me. I decided to change, not the hill, but what I was doing with it.
I said good-bye to my “Rocky” moment and made the decision to let go. I decided to stop caring if “could” and start caring about if I “should.” Was that small goal worth its cost?
From that moment forward I decided two things:
1. I would never run the hill again, even if I wanted to, even if I felt that I could.
2. I also would not allow myself to feel guilty for this.
And then, an unexpected thing happened. Within a couple days, I found myself looking forward to Mile-Marker 6.2. I began reminding myself on my longer runs that I had a break ahead and that, even if I wanted to, I was not allowed to run it.
I began to push myself through the twelve- and seventeen- milers, knowing that pretty soon I would get to the mile marker and cut myself some slack before the last two miles home.
I even nicknamed it “Sweet Spot.”
Three months later, I completed my fourth marathon- without walking.
And while I have broken my rule twice now (by running), I almost religiously stick to my guns. The rules serve a very important purpose for me. While I walk, I remember that there can be times when I need to step back and give myself permission to back away from my limits: to evaluate my small goals and see how they affect the larger picture. I had been ruining my larger goal by focusing on something that was absolutely non-essential to what I wanted to accomplish.
So, here’s what I want to say to you runners: It’s okay. It’s all okay. You can walk in the middle. You can walk at the end. You can walk whenever you please.
Whatever you’re doing to conquer that run, it’s great. Focus on the ultimate goal. If you’re running to lose weight, but can’t stop eating a candy bar after you run, then I say- eat a candy bar after you run. But be sure you run, knowing that you will have that luxury if you complete your run.
Maybe eventually, you’ll work it out of your system so that you no longer crave the candy bar. Or you might decide to start running the hill. Either way, you know what is best for you. Turn your weakness into your strength. But, no matter what, don’t give up running.
Don’t let a little thing become your downfall. I don’t care if you have to walk a mile to run 200 yards. You are a runner. You can do this.
Scruffy Pug Outdoors 