I don’t think anyone ever forgets a first run. And not usually because it’s such an awesome experience.
Mine took place in Indiana back in the 1980s. Up until that point, I had been utterly unathletic. The only practice I did occurred on a piano bench. Most of my free time was spent watching reruns of One Day at a Time while consuming large quantities of leftover mac and cheese. Like so many others, I was last to get picked for teams in gym class; I found anything even remotely physical thoroughly mortifying. My body was this thing from which I felt alienated, and yet also this bloated vessel in which I felt trapped.
I can’t even remember what prompted me to go outside. Perhaps the cable went out.
What I do remember is how gripped with fear I felt, standing there in my driveway, trying to muster the courage to take the first step.
I wasn’t scared of cars, rabid dogs, or even the discomfort of pushing my body farther than it had gone.
I was petrified that someone would see me. And laugh.
“Look at that girl trying to work out,” I imagined they’d say. “She looks so stupid!”
They would find it hilarious that someone who clearly never intentionally sweats would be making an effort to do so.
To drown out those fears, I put on headphones, fired up my Wham! cassette, and started on a route away from the busiest roads. It felt so awkward at first, my flabby thighs rubbing, my Tretorns scraping the concrete, the sweat soaking through my cutoff cotton sweatpants. But somewhere along the way, the self-consciousness fell away. I got lost in how beautiful the clouds were, how fresh the breeze smelled, and how energizing the beat of “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go!” felt blasting in my ears. There’s a fairly good chance I was swinging my hips.
And then my worst fears materialized. A classmate drove by. The next day, loud enough for the crowd to hear, she commented on how silly I looked, without a clear destination, grinning for no apparent reason.
“You looked like a total idiot!” she said. “What were you doing?”
It took me a while to venture out again. When I did, I convinced a friend to come along. The walk became less about exercise and more about just hanging-out. So we went again, and again and again, until it just became our after-school routine.
In college, in a vain effort to fend off the freshman 15, I’d rise before dawn to walk and jog along the country roads, hours before any other students woke up. I found a peace that seemed thoroughly inaccessible at any other waking moment. I could take in the world without having to worry about what I looked like, being asked a question I couldn’t answer, or encountering an awkward social situation I didn’t know how to handle. I was free to dream. I could breathe.
Today, those are the same reasons that get me out the door each morning. On the empty, dark roads, I get to watch the sun rise and witness the world waking up, one little bird chirp and bunny hop at a time. I can glimpse the sights and sounds of my outer and inner worlds that are, at every other hour, muffled by the grime and clamor of everyday hustle and bustle. I feel ventilated.
No matter how bad I feel before the first step, my runs always renew me and unleash in me a sense of gratitude and hope. And when I finish, all day long I ride the confidence boost I get from knowing that I had the courage to get out there and just do it.
It’s a miracle that I took those first steps and kept going even after that first humiliating try. But it is a gift for which I am forever grateful. Running has brought me friends and adventures that I wouldn’t have otherwise had. But most important, it has given me the patience, tenderness, and clarity to live my fullest life and to be the best version of myself for my family, my friends, and my work.
In this book, we hope you find everything you need to take your first steps.
We have compiled all the tools you need to get going, stick with it, and develop a love of running that lasts for life. You’ll find all the information you need on walking, running, motivation, weight loss, nutrition, injury prevention, and strength training plus some of the best articles that have appeared in Runner’s World on the subject. Additionally, you’ll find the inspirational stories of people just like you who had the guts to get up, who found the determination to keep going and were rewarded beyond what they ever imagined for doing so.
You’ll read about people like Andy Aubin, who overcame the intimidation of walking into a gym at 328 pounds and fell off the treadmill on his first try. He got up and went on to lose 133 pounds and finish half-marathons. And that’s to say nothing of the transformation that came on the inside.
“It’s empowering to be able to do something you never thought was possible. And that shifted everything,” says Aubin. “Now I don’t view anything as undoable. Nothing is off the table. That doesn’t make it easy. But now I have the confidence to know that if I’m willing to put in the work, there’s nothing that can’t be done. That carries over into work and relationships and everything else.”
For so many people, running is a way to rise up from the rock-bottom moments of life. John Golden, overcome after his wife’s sudden death, woke up the next day and “couldn’t stay still,” he says. “I had to find a way to escape the grief, and the only thing I knew to do was grab a pair of shoes and run.” Christine Casady started running after an agonizing, 2-year battle with infertility. “I needed to start a new chapter,” she says. “I needed something to help pull me out of the hole that I had been in for so long.” Jamie Kontos became a runner after she broke off her engagement. “It was about taking control of my life during a time when I felt completely helpless,” says Kontos. Running helped Brian Robertson shed his “why me?” sense of resignation after being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at the age of 25, just a few weeks before his daughter was born.
“I felt broken and sorry for myself,” says Robertson, who went on to shed 145 pounds from his 310-pound frame. “Running helped me leave all that behind me.”
Inspired as they are, most people find that the first days are never easy. The muscles cry. The cheeks flush with embarrassment. The shins feel like they’re being stabbed, and the sweating and jostling just feel so uncomfortable.
“It took me a long time to realize that the runner’s high wasn’t total crap,” says Jodi Edwards, who started running after she, too, was diagnosed with MS. “But every day I was able to go out a little bit longer or feel a little bit better afterward. So I’d talk myself down from the fear. And there was a sense of freedom, even when it was hard, because I could make my legs work like that. I was so thrilled that I was able to do it.”
Indeed, step by step, for so many people running becomes a way to make themselves over from the inside out. It’s a way to piece together a shattered self-confidence, renew tattered hope, and rebuild a sense of self that got trampled somewhere along the way.
“After a run, I feel like I can accomplish any goal I set my mind to,” says Kontos. “I cannot control what happens at work or school, but I can control how I take care of myself. I feel more confident at work, school, and among my friends and family. Since I started running, I’ve become more outgoing and started tackling issues head-on.”