My First 5K: Crazy Joy

I ran my first 5K this weekend in 32 minutes without stopping. (Thank you, Couch to 5K!) I was crying at the finish line, sobbing in fact. I wasn't hurting, I was overwhelmed with crazy joy.

It's a long story, but it's not really my first 5K. When I was a kid, I was possibly one of the most clumsy, non-athletic people on the planet. I wasn't overweight, but I was always the last to be picked for gym class teams. I tried ballet, gymnastics, softball, basketball, you name it. Every single one of them I tried my best and landed on the bench. In fact, I broke my arm twice bicycling, once dancing, my finger doing gymnastics and a whole myriad of other lack-of-coordination related injuries. The ER staff knew me by name.

So, in high school, a friend talked me into running on the cross country team. God knows I wasn't fast, but the skills involved were as simple as when the gun goes off: run; and when you get to the finish line: stop. No balls, no rules, just run. It was hard, but I trained and did it. I never came in first and I never came in last. I was the only person on the team, possibly on any team, who smiled nearly the whole way. I had that crazy runner's joy. The following year, I was team captain because I was great at motivating everyone to run hard and keep on running!

At the end of my junior year I got really sick. No one could figure out what was wrong with me. I thought that a quiet summer would resolve it. I started training for the upcoming cross country season in August. I'd run for a half-hour or forty-five minutes and sleep the rest of the day, get up, have dinner and go to bed. Day after day I did that. I had a serious fatigue problem. I was in and out of doctor's offices and no one knew what was wrong. I started the season, but couldn't keep up with school and running. So, I had to quit the team. I'll never forget that day. I walked up to coach with my shoes in my hands, sobbing. I had finally found my sport and I had to let it go.

The school year started and I got sicker and sicker. Finally I could only attend school for half a day. My social life dried up. I was tested for every disease under the sun. I didn't have cancer, lupus, MS, toxoplasmosis, Lyme, bacterial infection, anemia or any other known disease. Chronic Fatigue and Fibromyalgia were such new diagnoses that many of my doctors didn't take it seriously.

Since then, exercise has always been hard for me to manage. I'd have good days and bad, ups and downs. Fast forward over 15 years and I'm managing a lot better, even if I'm not totally well.

After Asha came I was dealing with some serious depression and was not quiet sure how to handle it. I had read how good exercise was for depression, but it was so hard for me to do because of all the pain and fatigue I was managing. Then I saw the author of "Born to Run" on the Daily Show and felt inspired to take up running again. I bought some Vibram Five Fingers and started reading all about barefoot/minimalist running. For my birthday, my brother and his wife send me Dean Karnazes' memoir, "Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All Night Runner." I thought it was a strange gift for someone as non-athletic as myself, but as I read it, the more excited I got about running. My sister-in-law's response to my thank-you note said, "I always knew you were a runner at heart." I read it over and over again and cried. I felt so encouraged.

One night after a particularly harrowing day I was so depressed that I just wanted to run away. My husband told me to do that very thing. "Put on your footgloves and run. Didn't that guy in the book you are reading run at night?" It was midnight and it was cold. No matter, I put on my footgloves and ran a whole mile. I felt amazing and I was able to handle the next day. So, I signed up for the Couch to 5K program and started to train. I was derailed by snowstorms, travel, sick babies, bronchitis, everything imaginable. But, I kept getting back on. Finally it was spring and I was going nearly every other day. My depression was under control and I was feeling strong.

This weekend I ran my first 5K since high school. I did it. Fibromyalgia couldn't keep me down. Depression couldn't keep me down. I kept a steady pace and smiled nearly the whole way. In "Born to Run," one famous coach noted that the major difference between great ultramarathoners and the rest is this crazy joy. While I am hardly an ultramarthoner, sometimes for someone with fibromyalgia a 5K can feel like 100miles. What keeps me encouraged to keep running is that I know that crazy joy.