I Believe in the Run

Nearly every great thing I have ever accomplished has been marked by screen-printed cotton. First play? Got the t-shirt. Student Council Officer? Got the t-shirt. OASC? Too many t-shirts. High school/college grad? Embroidered sweatshirts marked those occasions. I have faculty shirts, concert shirts, even a t-shirt from Budapest that says something in Slovakian that I don't understand. (There's a piece of me that hopes it reads: I am a stupid American tourist, but the chances of that are slim.) And so, when I ran my first 5k a few weeks ago, I decided to mark the occasion in the usual way.

Of course, the Boston Athletic Association did send me an awesome shirt (with a unicorn!) that could have served as commemoration enough but didn't. I wanted my OWN shirt. Something to mark me for this race (and all those I hope will follow) as not just another runner but as me. I wanted a shirt that my friends and fans (okay, my parents) could recognize in a blurry crowd and one that could serve as a self-imposed uniform--when the shirt goes on, the SHOW goes on, the world falls away. It just so happened that the Niketown in Boston was running a special on personalized running shirts the weekend of my race. ( To be clear, the shirts and the personalization perk was geared toward the REAL runners who competed in the 113th Boston Marathon, not me, but I decided to capitalize on the offer.) The problem was, I wanted a shirt that said SOMETHING PERSONAL and I had nothing to say.

Sure, I could put my name on it but "Rachael" is hardly an inspiring slogan or a transformative phrase that invites my"game face". It's my name. I needed something that would define me as an athlete--the same way that a costume makes me a character or if I wear high heels to class, I mean business. By the same token, my shirt had to be authentic and original. I couldn't just grab a tee that said "Boston 2009". I didn't run the marathon and I couldn't misrepresent myself to myself OR to anyone else. (Ahh, the ethics of running three-point-two measly miles). I stared and I brainstormed. I went home. I even "slept on it". Still, no slogans came; no t-shirt either.

In a class I taught once, a class I loved, my students designed t-shirts with their mission statements on them and wore their shirts to school for a day (in lieu of uniforms!) to gauge others' reactions to their public declarations of self. That day, my t-shirt read:

"I will live with courage and compassion; I will fill my days with wonder, creativity and love. I will seek truth, teach tolerance, act with integrity and leave the world better than it was before I came."

Like Steven Covey, I believe in mission statements and in goals as guiding principles to life. I believe even more in the public declaration of those principles and the accountability that follows. For me, and for most of my students, this spring experiment was the first time we'd ever "declared ourselves" and watched the reactions of others. While I can't speak for the rest, I'll acknowledge that I was both proud and incredibly self conscious to wear my shirt--in the same way that I am proud and anxious about this blog and this new, public goal. On one hand, my  idealism drives my success, and conversely, if I fail or fall short of my goals, I am wracked with my own self-doubt and others' disappointment (or worse, their pity).

So too, I needed a racing shirt that would mark me, motivate me, and make me accountable to my goals and to my own success or failure.

Thankfully, Nike had this to offer:

 
Even if you couldn’t ever get old or ever get fat
And you never got burned out in the afternoon
And your teachers all thought you were a genius
And no one ever broke up with you
And every scholarship was a full scholarship
And you were guaranteed to start every game
And every game you played you won
And you never doubted yourself
And the money you had was exactly enough
And every day, in every way, you felt just like you wanted,
You’d still run
BELIEVE IN THE RUN.

Ultimately, my belief in MYSELF will carry me to the finish line. But believing in running (something I never, EVER, thought that I could do) and all the good that comes of it in my life is awesome as well.

If you come to see me race, now or in the future, look for the short girl with a curly pony tail, pearl earrings and a graceful stride (depending on the mile). I'll be wearing a bright blue shirt that says " I believe in the run" on the front. You'll know when I fly past you; my name is on the back. So is the fact that I am a Rockstar.

At least I feel like it for doing this :)

Easy as Cake

I have never been an athlete. Okay, that’s not true.  But aside from a short and brutal stint as a rower and coxswain in college, I’ve really only associated the gym with agony and sweat with weight-loss. I was the fattest kid on the playground. I would rather read books—until now.

Last December, I made a promise to myself to run a half-marathon in 2009. What began as a late night chat in my parent’s kitchen became my present passion and goal. My friend V and I began that winter’s night not with talk of running but with cups of tea and a shared desire to globetrot—anywhere we could afford as soon as possible. V had just traveled abroad for the first time last May and her wanderlust piqued my own, so we started looking for cheap tickets to cool places: Athens, Barcelona, Paris but then she said: “Hey, why don’t we just do a half marathon?”

For a strong, athletic girl from a die-hard running family, this remark was akin to: “Let’s just bake a cake!” With the right ingredients and a little practice, V was destined to be successful. I however, needed a little more work. Even in December, I was not  and am not a total neophyte to running: two years of crew workouts followed by a wonderful but low-paying teaching job and a desperate need for my clothes to fit lead me to keep up with the sport—at least to the point where I could run six miles if I really really wanted to.

If I can run six miles, why not seven more? 

The sweetness of the challenge compelled me and I agreed to compete in Boston in the fall of 2009. Supported by family, friends and loved ones who believe both in the power of running and in me, I’ve been training hard and steadily since January 1^st.  With the half- marathon still six long months away, my goal at the moment is to “get the miles in,” to build a solid running base, a strong, healthy body, and (even more so) a strong discipline. As a writer and teacher, you’d think I had figured out this discipline thing long ago, but the truth is, commitment to a goal that requiring daily practice and patience is the hardest thing for me to do: I quit swimming lessons; I still can't play the flute; I only write essays when I have to; I am a master procrastinator and the queen of letting myself of the hook. I used to think that this gentleness was good for me (and it is to some extent) but mostly it makes me lazy and stops me from achieving the things I really want.

No more.

From now on, while my feet put in the miles, my fingers will put down the words.

Let’s see what happens, shall we?

R.