“I’m not a runner.”
I’ve probably said that a hundred times. Nothing like putting a self-limiting belief right out there, huh?
I think what I meant was “I’ve never run.” or “I’m scared to try.” or “I won’t be good at it.” But whatever the case, I labeled myself like that and hid behind it.
Both of my sisters love to run. I’ve admired that about them kind of “from afar.” They actually love exercise in any form. I’ve honestly never been able to relate to the “runner’s high” that they experience.
Why do we do that? Define ourselves in ways that limit our potential. Maybe you’ve said, “I’m not a good cook.” or “My desk is so disorganized.” or “I don’t get good grades.” We’re so good at telling our kids that they can do anything, the sky is the limit, anything is possible. Even our friends and family get our positive words of encouragement. When Jess said she wanted to run a marathon (but she’d never run a day in her life), did I say to her, “You’re not a runner.”? Of course I didn’t. I told her I absolutely knew she could do it. (and of course she did!) When my son Isaac wanted to try out for the travel baseball team even though he’d never even played league, I certainly didn’t say, “You’re not a baseball player.” (and yes, he made the team!) When Jen wanted to start a business in an area that she had absolutely no experience in, did I tell her she couldn’t be successful? Nope (and she climbed to the top of the company).
One of my goals for 2020 is to treat myself like I treat others. No negative talk. No limiting beliefs. I might need some reminders from those around me as those kind of habits are really hard to break.
Now back to the running. When I started dating (my now husband) Josh, it was around Thanksgiving of 2018. He and his son Tate ran the Turkey Trot, something they try to do every year. I said, sort of off-handedly without thinking, “I’d love to run the Turkey Trot with you next year.” I’m not sure I really meant it, I just liked the idea of the family time, the medal, the excuse to eat more after that pre-pig-out-day workout. But nevertheless, the seed was planted and sat in the back of my mind. And Josh certainly didn’t let me forget it, mentioning it a few times over the course of the next year.
Fast forward to fall of 2019 and a Thanksgiving trip to Arizona because it wasn’t our holiday with the kids. While looking up things to do while we were there, Josh found a Turkey Trot. I was making dinner, he mentioned it, I had excuses (I haven’t run at all, how could I do 3.1 miles, it’s so early in the morning, what if it’s cold… you name it, I thought of it.) But in true Josh fashion, two minutes later I hear, “Okay, we’re registered.”
I wish I could say that knowing we were doing it forced me to practice or visualize success or anything like that. But it didn’t. It made me think of ways to discipline my disappointment. I’ll probably have to walk most of it. If the alarm goes off and we’re too tired, we don’t have to go. If I’m really holding Josh back, he can just run ahead of me and wait (a long time) for me to finish.
When the day came, we were super tired when that alarm went off (we’d flown in super late the night before), the weather wasn’t great (windy and a chance of rain), and I hadn’t trained at all. But we headed down to the race and as soon as we got there, I could finally see what all the race fuss was about. Of course I’d seen countless friends post about how awesome races are over the years, and now I could see what they were talking about. The energy, the positivity, the great outfits, all the families. Just a really awesome vibe that started to put my nerves at ease. So many people of every age and size, surely I wouldn’t come in last! There was comfort in that.
I completely believed that I’d have to walk part of the course, I just didn’t want to have to walk “too soon”. Maybe I could make it a whole mile! And we were off. I quickly realized our pace was very “middle of the pack” which was just fine with me. Being in that crowd, people watching, my love right beside me (he let me pick the pace and never left my side), all of it was so much more fun than I imagined. Fun? In the same breath as “run”? I almost couldn’t believe it.
When Josh told me we were at a mile, I was pleasantly surprised at how well I was doing. I started to think maybe I’d be able to run half before I had to walk. Pretty soon he said, “half way” and I was still going! Then he started in with the compliments. He was so proud of me, I looked so sexy, etc. That’ll keep a girl going! And then the kicker, “Baby, you’re going to run this whole thing.” Well I couldn’t very well start walking after that, could I? I started to get pretty tired right before three miles, but the end was in sight, and I knew I could do it. You guys I ran. The. Whole. Damn. Thing. If you’d have asked me before the race if that was possible, I would have said Hell No! But I did it. And the feeling I had crossing the finish line was awesome!
“I am a runner.”
I’m not fast and I don’t do it often. But I ran a race and I have the medal to prove it. Which isn’t nearly as valuable as everything I learned about myself.
It felt SO GOOD to tell my kids and show them pictures. It felt SO GOOD to see Josh so proud of me, to get all the sweet compliments on my social media posts, to be able to send my race stats to my family.
What things (lies) have you told yourself about what you can’t accomplish, what you’re not good at, goals you can’t achieve? I challenge you to rethink those things, surround yourself with people who believe in you, and push yourself to redefine what you believe is possible.
