A "Someday" Intervention

I did it. I ran with the big girls - meaning that elite group of gym goers who run marathons as a form of entertainment. I’ve watched them with envy for the last couple of years as they meet twice a week at the front desk to go running before they actually do their work out. When they return 30 minutes later laughing under the veil of that elusive runner’s high, I’ve always wondered if someday, I might be able to go too.

But that’s the thing about “someday.” We all know darn well that it rarely ever comes. It’s a word we use far too carlessly to describe what we would like to do or have, but never requires any type of committment to actually get it done. It just buys us another day of not making the changes we know need to be made in order to get there. So...despite wanting to make the change, I knew deep down that that unless there were ever some kind of major intervention, I will probably always be just a "someday" runner.

Well, without any kind of warning that “major intervention” came on Tuesday morning. It arrived in the form of a slightly intimidating and definitely unexpected conversation with the Queen Bee herself, the leader of the morning running pack, the woman who entertains us in the locker room with her stories of running marathons throughout Canada and the United States.

As I was leaving the gym that fateful day, she stopped me and said “You should come running with us tomorrow morning. We leave at 6:30am; Lisa tells me you’re doing really well.” After instinctively looking around to see to whom else she might be speaking, I slowly found my words and replied, “Ah thanks…but no. I still have some serious work to do before I can run with you guys. Maybe someday though.”

And there it was - a look of recognition from her that told me that at some point in her life she too had hung her hat, or in this case her sneakers, on “someday.” After a brief pause, she looked at me and said in a polite but firm tone: “No really. You should come. You’re more ready than you think.” I again thanked her for the invitation but suggested quite strongly that although I would consider it, she should leave without me if I wasn’t there in the morning.

Turning to walk away, I had a flashback of being in grade nine when for the first time ever, the “cool girls” decided to talk to me one day out of the blue. I can still remember my shock and awe when, for whatever reason, their Queen Bee took note of my otherwise invisible existence and offered me a rare but highly coveted invitation into their inner sanctum. (An invitation coincidentally that was revoked about a week later when they realized I just wasn't up to par. That's ok though.)

I got into my car reflecting on the odd conversation that had just transpired. The voice inside my head was giggling at the absurdity of joining their inner sanctum so ahead of schedule; talk about not being up to par. But as the day wore on, the internal critic uncharacteristically subsided and was replaced by what Queen Bee had said to me and by 4pm I had resolved to go. What’s the worst that could happen? I vomit? I fall down? Highly unlikely. The worst would probably be that I’d have to bow out gracefully and walk back to homebase, humbled but completely not surprised. Content to try it again, someday.

After a sleepless night, I arrived at the gym at 6:15am. Approaching the front desk I seriously considered just walking right on by but when Queen Bee came around the corner there was no escape. She gave me a big smile and said she was glad I decided to come out. And then she said something that will forever change my perception of her: “I should warn you; I’m a bit out of sorts today so I hope I don’t disappoint you.” Pardon? Disappoint me? What? The woman who uses the adjective “only” in front of 5K as in “we’ll only do 5K” was actually concerned about making a bad impression on me? Looking back at her she actually seemed human to me for the first time in two years. It had never occurred to me until now that maybe she hadn’t always been a runner, but rather someone who had always wanted to be one. I wondered what her “someday intervention” had been.

A few seconds later we met Lisa outside and away we went. 5K. Run 10 minutes, walk 1 minute. Gasp. Susan, aka Queen Bee led the charge setting our pace. She said a few technical things to us that I really have no idea what it meant, but as we turned out of the parking lot, I tucked myself neatly behind her and Lisa to observe their style, follow their pace, watch their arms. I didn’t say much; I just wanted to focus. I knew this could get ugly real quick.

Along the way, Susan and Lisa chatted with great ease but regularly looked back to make sure I was doing ok. A thumbs up was about all I had to offer but before I knew it, we had done our first 10 minutes and were enjoying a glorious one minute walk. Then 8 minutes were run. Walked one. 9 minutes. Walked one, and suddenly as I was holding on for dear life, dragging my cement feet, Susan turned to me with a victorious smile and said “You did it! We’re done! We just walk from here to cool down.” High fives were handed out and honestly, if they had looked closely, they would have seen the tears in my eyes. I didn’t vomit. I didn’t fall down. I didn’t turn around and go back to the gym. I didn’t walk while they ran. I did it. I did 5K with the big girls.

While stretching outside the gym, I finally mustered up the courage to ask Susan when she started to run. Imagine my surprise when she responded: “I only started when I was 40. A friend of mine ran a marathon when she was 50 so it inspired me to give it a try; I had always wanted to do it. My first time out I barely made it to the end of my driveway! That was five years ago now.”

Let me try and put this into perspective for you. This woman has legs of steel and is in crazy shape; if I had been asked, I would have testified that she was in her early 30’s. And serving as a confirmation that it wasn’t just a fluke, there too stood Lisa in the body of a 22 year old despite turning the big 4-0 earlier this year.

I learned a lot today. The first lesson came at about the 3K mark. Anyone who knows me knows that I have not been happy about approaching the end of my 30’s; in fact I’ve been downright whiney about it. Since turning 37, I have been desperately looking for a sign that, despite what society seems to want us to believe, it's not all downhill after 40. And this morning, while I focused on Susan’s and Lisa’s killer calves, I got that sign loud and clear. If they are what our 40’s can be, then bring it on.

The second thing I learned is that I just might be able to do this, because I just did. Obviously I have a long way to go and a lot to learn before I can actually call myself a runner but today, on a foggy morning in Burnside, someday finally arrived.

I won’t ever know why Susan stopped me that day. Maybe she recognized herself in me and decided to stage a “someday intervention.” Whatever the reason, I’m just glad she did. My hamstrings on the otherhand...well, they still need some convincing.