Merriam-Webster defines a runner as the following:

run·ner noun \ˈrə-nər\
: a person who runs as part of a sport, for exercise, or in a race

However, I believe that there are as many definitions of what it means to be “a runner” as there are people who choose to spend their time running.  In fact, there are also plenty of folks who’ve admittedly never run even a fraction of a mile in their lives (other than if they’re being chased) who have an opinion or two on the matter.  “Oh, you’re a real runner!” they might profess upon discovering that I have run marathons.

Yeah, because all of the times I laced up in my pre-marathon days and heeded the urge to move, and  succumbed to the need to propel myself forward in the all encompassing way my body could only attain through running- I was really a big , fat fraud; a little lady posing as a runner; a pretender; an impostor; a shammer; a trickster even.  WTH?!

There are plenty of people my age who have been running for longer than I have been.  People who played sports as kids and ran for conditioning purposes , people who ran cross country in high school and track in college.  I did none of theses things.   I entered in to a relationship with running much later in life- in my early 20s to be exact.   I’d like to say it was love at first sprint, but then I’d really be a no-good, lying, phony.  The beginning of our courtship was actually filled with self-imposed obstacles.   I played hard to get at first, flirting with both the idea and the reality of becoming a runner.  I can’t recall when running and I went from our on-again-off-again, inconsistent and sometimes clandestine meetings, to I want to shout from the roof tops that I can’t live without you status any more than I can recall when I first began to internally identify as  a runner.  What I do know is that my relationship with running has  spanned more years than any other in my life thus far (apart from ties with my family of origin).    I’ve consistently and epically failed in maintaining childhood friendships, and CMB and I have only been together for 19 years (married for almost 17 of those), so the 20+ years running and I have been an item are pretty significant.

Now that you’re privy to way too much information regarding my humble athletic metamorphosis , perhaps you can explain to me why I currently feel I have no business maintaining a blog about running when I’m not actually a real runner.

What?

I know, I know.

But VJB, you just said you’re a real runner!  You even gave supporting facts…

Yes, yes I did.  I must sound totally batshit crazy?!

Well, to be perfectly honest, you kinda d-

BTW- that was a rhetorical question.

But alas, it is true.  I know I sound completely insane but its only because I seem to be experiencing a minor identity crisis.  I began this blog during marathon training so nobody, not even my inner critic, could argue the fact that I was indeed a real runner.  Six plus months post-marathon, here I sit trying to keep this thing going while feeling grossly inadequate.  How can I call myself a runner when I haven’t trained for a race in months?  When I haven’t logged more than 15 miles in a week in forever?  When my pace has deteriorated to… – forget it!  I’m not going to completely embarrass myself by printing that!   

Indulge me for a second while I think this through.  Am I less of a wife when CMB and I are navigating a slight rough patch (which is inevitable in a long-term marriage) than when we are ensconced in marital bliss?  ABSOLUTELY NOT.  Am I less of a mother when my children challenge my patience than when they behave like angels ? NO WAY.  So why, pray tell,  am I less of a runner (or worse, not a runner at all) simply because my current pace sucks and my race calendar is empty?  Will running a half marathon every 3 months or training for another marathon make me worthy of reclaiming the title of a  real runner?  WHO THE HELL KNOWS.

I do know that running is a state of mind as much as it is a course of action, and that lacing up and feeling your body come alive as you move forward (no matter what the pace) is something I could never live without.  While that’s not Merriam-Webster’s definition of a runner, I guess its good enough for me.

 

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