I went for a very, very cold run on Saturday morning. The wind chill made it 25* outside. I knew I needed to do a practice run in preparation for my first 5k on Thanksgiving because the forecasted low is 24*. Oy! So I bundled up and hit the pavement and it went really well despite my muscles feeling tight the whole time.
On my run I thought about a simple truth. This 5k? It's not really, truly my first.
In the spring of 2009 right after Josh and I bought our first house (photo below of how big I was then… and how horrible our blue walls looked) my Mom was a runner. She was the one hitting the pavement and loving the runner life while I was laying around and enjoying a life of eating all of the food and gaining weight rapidly (not really enjoying, let's be clear). She had signed up for a 5k and asked my sister who was 11 at the time to join her in the run along with one of her little friends. My Mom wanted to do her best in the run and not stay with the girls which I understood and Josh and I agreed to walk the 5k and follow my sister and her friend to make sure they'd be ok. I assumed lots of people would be walking...
I assumed wrong. NO ONE was walking. Everyone was running. Even my sister and her friend. Josh and I started out with a little jog, but after just a few minutes and me drifting to the back of the pack I was out of breath and spent. I walked, but slowly and tried to keep going. The girls were SO FAR ahead of us we couldn't see them. Josh decided to jog ahead to catch up with them while I just continued to walk. I hadn't even made it to the first mile marker before I saw runners coming back. COMING BACK. I was mortified and felt horrible and so ashamed of not only how overweight I was but also how out of shape I was. I couldn't even walk a mile in how long it took someone to run 3! I couldn't keep up with my 11 year old sister! I was so ashamed. I turned around and walked back and my Mom, sister, and husband all passed me. I still ended up walking through the finish line at the back of the pack and felt humiliated to even be a part of it all.
So, naturally, I helped myself to a bag of Chex Mix at the race and insisted we stop at McDonalds for a biscuit on the way home. At that time I was about 215lbs. Josh and I had gotten married LESS than a year before and on that day I was 185lbs. I thought about all of this while eating my feelings and just feeling awful about where I was.
So that's the truth going into this 5k Thursday. It is not technically my first. My first ended with me eventually in tears, eating my feelings and throwing away the bib and the race shirt in a dramatic episode that came from a deeper place than just being annoyed with myself. I swore I'd never run or do a 5k again.
Thursday I'm not only doing another 5k, I'm doing it with my sister. Our Mom can't run anymore, but we can and we both enjoy it. I'm so happy to be running along side her for my first 5k as the new Ashley who CAN do a 5k and who CAN reach her goal weight and who CAN CAN CAN CAN CAN do things. I can't wait. The other 5k is who I was. It's history. It's the epitome of failure. It took 4 years to get to the place where I can "try again," but I'm here and I'm ready. I'm not who I was.
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