I’m a slow runner. Honestly, I don’t even know if I could call myself a runner. More of a jogger—or a slogger! I move at an accelerated speed from my normal walking speed at a little over 4 mph—comfortably. Sure, I can run faster than that—but my endurance runs out pretty quick! I can “run” a 5k from start to finish and finish faster than if I had walked it—but hands down, I’m pretty darn slow.
Lately, I have just been beating myself up about it. Why can’t I run faster? Why does this have to be so hard for me? It’s so embarrassing! I bet everyone is staring at me and wondering why I’m so red faced and out of breath when I’m barely moving faster than a turtle. In other words, NOT a good dialogue to have going on in my head when I’m attempting to run.
But I started thinking about it and you know what? Two years ago, running for 30 seconds was a challenge and many times, I couldn’t even do it. And look at me now, I could run for an hour and be tired, but I bet I could keep going if I wanted to. So there is improvement. I must not be discouraged. After all, I’m still running and that gets me a whole lot farther than sitting on the couch! Maybe I’m not as faithful in running as often as I should, or want to—lately, mostly because I have felt so ashamed of my running ability—but being more dedicated to it would really help me improve.
But you know what? At over 200 lbs. I’m probably not going to be running 10 minute miles for a while. Is it possible? Probably. But the impact on my knees and hips can be pretty high—and taking it slow is probably the best thing for me right now. And that’s OK.
Remember him?
He ran a 5k. He was overweight. If he can do it, so can I—and so can you! I often think when other people see me running, they probably make fun of me or laugh at me. But you know what, when I saw Michael run that 5k, or if I see other overweight people running, I am inspired. I respect them because of the effort they are putting forth. There’s no shame in running slow—at least we’re running!!
There’s nothing wrong with your best. If your best is slogging along at a snails pace—who cares! You’re not racing against anyone but yourself. Giving your best means winning Every.Single.Time. Being the first one to the finish line is remarkable, but so is just getting there—giving it your best, and not giving up.
No more shame in being a slow runner. Just give what you’ve got to give—and it’s always enough as long as it’s your best!
