Name Your Gremlin

It was inevitable I would meet him. He was ugly and cruel. Knowing how positive I am, I thought I could keep him away.

The day began with my 6.15 am run with Coach Dave doing one milers, I rocked it. The weather, track and time were all in my favor. I felt great.  Coach suggested experimenting with gels for my long run this weekend. Gel is fake food in little packets supposed to give you what you need for endurance runs; his suggestion was harmless enough.

A supposedly harmless online conversation with my running buddy about this fake food sent me on a downward spiral.

And then I met him. His name is Chip. He told me ‘you are clueless about daily nutrition, let alone running nutrition! Who are you to run a marathon? What makes you think with your body you could do this. Just because you have a running friend, a running coach and a cute running outfit, does not make you a runner. You can’t run a marathon you only started running 12 weeks ago!’ I listened to Chip.

He was right. I felt like a loser, crazy and frustrated. Who was I to even think I could do this? The ugly cry and embarrassment followed.

As if that wasn’t enough in one day, I had a 6.00 pm appointment with the local sports medicine clinic for an evaluation to check gait, movement, and technique. Already feeling fragile, entering the room filled with equipment, cameras and all kinds of torture devices. Dan, the physical therapist invested 30 minutes checking every muscle in my body and explained the deficiencies and where (and why) my muscles weren’t ‘firing’. I started to get mad at my body for being so broken and irresponsible. Didn’t it know what it was supposed to do? Dan was in disbelief about my running journey and goal.  The worst was yet to come.

Dan led me into the studio to video my running style. I was hooked up to magic light sensors and surrounded by cameras and he stood behind the console asking me to walk and then run. Chip came too. Chip loudly said ‘you look hideous when you run. Everything moves and your body doesn’t work. Have you seen how disgusting you look running? You shouldn’t run in public!’ Managing to make it through the test without vomiting at Chip’s comments, Dan showed me where my body was letting me down, how my hips had almost a 20-degree difference, where I twisted and turned when I shouldn’t. Dan was nice, I wasn’t mad at him; he was doing what I had paid him to do. Chip was nasty and he got louder and louder.

I left the clinic with Chip reminding me that I should never run in public and that I should also consider not eating again if I wanted to ever look OK running. And I listened. Chip was right.

I texted my running friend from the clinic ‘I am never running again’. Chip had won.

I was a blubbering mess. I couldn’t speak, I didn’t want to eat and I was so mad at Chip, my body (and even my friends who had let me run in public).

My dear friend, despite the busyness in his own life, replied to my desperate text. He shared his story, challenged me and made me choose.  I went to bed exhausted wondering if he was right.

At 6.15 today I turned off my alarm, laced up my shoes and headed outside. Chip was there to meet me. I ran down my drive and on the street and for a few miles it was just me and my playlist and Chip. Susan Boyle’s version of Amazing Grace played in my ears (my playlist is very eclectic) and I realized it was a privilege to run.

It doesn’t matter how you look, or how slow you go or how your body looks when you do it. Chip was wrong; he is an ugly gremlin.

What matters is someone believes in you, even when you don’t. Of all my runs, this wasn’t my longest run or my fastest run but it was my most important run.

Some days you just need to confront your gremlins, take the first step,  and have the courage to try. So today I ran.