The Only Thing You Need to Run

I have plenty of co-workers who are interested in my running and periodically ask how my training for this or that is going. (Side note: I realized today that I'm currently training for a marathon, a half-marathon and a triathlon. I'm insane.)

I'm happy to chat about running with anyone, but I notice many times that the person I'm talking with will say something like, "I'd love to be a runner, but I can't because..."

It doesn't really matter what they say; I just smile and nod and say, "Yeah, I once thought that, too."

I'm not a born athlete. I never played sports growing up. I dreaded running the mile in P.E. class. I "ran" track in junior high, but I did sprints (poorly) and the high jump (semi-adequately). I eventually quit because there was — get this — too much running involved.

In college, I once attempted to run from my freshman dorm to Gas Works Park. I burned out halfway there and had to turn around.

"Halfway there" was about half a mile. I was so discouraged by this incident that I never made a second attempt.

So why am I, of all people, now able to run while others think they can't?

My friend Ben Davis recently posted this statement on his blog:

Not everyone has to run. If you don't want to run, don't run!

But if you want to run and think you can't, I can tell you right now that you only need one thing to run... or bike... or swim... or do whatever it is that you think you can't do — and it's this:

The only thing you need is the will to walk out of your front door and do it.

OK, so you technically need a pair of sneakers, but hey, some people run barefoot! The point is that there are a million excuses for why someone can't do something. The one thing that sets those who can apart from those who can't is that they do it.

To be a runner, you don't have to be fast. You don't have to race. You don't have to run a marathon. A lot of people let these all-or-nothing excuses get in the way of simply starting.

It's called paralyzed perfectionism, and it's my middle name (disguised for paperwork as "Alexandra"). I almost didn't graduate high school because of it.

Paralyzed perfectionism goes really well with those "can't" excuses. Here's a great example:

"Obviously I can never do a triathlon. My swimming form is terrible."

Hey — I'm signed up for a triathlon that's about a month away. I haven't been swimming since this photo was taken! My "form" is exactly the same (underwater robot?). I also don't have access to a pool, don't have a one-piece swimsuit to train in, don't have goggles, don't have a swim cap, and don't really know where to get started on this swimming thing. I won't be able to do it perfectly.

But I can do it, and I will, because I care enough to try.

There's so much equipment that goes hand-in-hand with sports, and people get so caught up with it as being integral to their success. I don't really need all that swimming stuff I just mentioned; I could just fling myself into the nearest body of water and get to work.

A suit, goggles and swim cap won't help me learn how to swim. Flinging myself into the water will.

I have all the stuff that every serious runner has: great shoes, a GPS watch, a fuel belt, special running clothes and more. But none of that stuff actually gets me out of my front door. Only I can do that.

There are still lots of things I subconsciously tell myself I "can't" do, but really just haven't cared enough to try:

• I "can't" wake up earlier so I can be less rushed each morning.
• I "can't" find the time to cook complete, healthy meals instead of just grabbing whatever is easiest.
• I "can't" keep my room clean and my clothes put away.
• I "can't" start regularly posting on this blog three times per week.

These are all things that frustrate me, and it's great to realize that I can change each of them if I really try. I won't be able to start magically doing all these things perfectly, but, as much as I can, I just have to jump out of bed... plan out those meals... put away crap as I go... and write, dammit!

I remember that day in college when I struggled to run a half-mile and I see how far I've come... literally. I've run more than 300 miles so far this year, and I'll add another 400+ before the year is out.

The reason 24-year-old me can do what 18-year-old me couldn't even fathom is simply because I now care enough to do it, and I don't worry about "failing" as a runner. And if this running thing is any indication, I can do a whole lot better at a whole lot of other things.

Time to fling myself into the water.

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What have you avoided doing because you've feared you would fail? What do you want to start caring more about today?

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