The Life of a Mediocre Runner

I’m not very good at running. You might question my sanity in admitting such a thing as someone who has built an entire personality (and Instagram account) around running.

And wait a minute – I spend five-plus hours a week doing something I’m not very good at? For the last three years?

Yep, you read that right.

I was never athletic. The Presidential Fitness Test traumatized me. I hated even the thought of committing to a team activity once a week. Sure, there were some misguided attempts at making teams (I’m so glad social media wasn’t a thing when I tried to do my first lay-up, trying out for my middle school basketball team), but I truly had no desire to be physically active in any organized sense.

And over the years, I developed anxiety around physical activity. I wasn’t good, so I’d just embarrass myself if I tried. Like most women raised in the 90s and 2000s, I had a deeply unhealthy relationship with my body, but dieting was my answer, not exercising (because it wasn’t as “effective” at cutting the pounds). I would occasionally get on an elliptical, start (and fail) a couch to 5K plan, or maybe do some yoga, but if I had to be out in public doing it, I would quickly get caught in a game of comparison, and inevitably “lose” to others in the room who weren’t even aware we were competing.

But one day, I decided to do something that I couldn’t chicken out of – sign up for a marathon. I kid you not, I could not run half of a mile when I signed up. I was completely delusional. I had correctly assumed that you cannot sign up for a 26.2-mile race and then “phone it in”, quit the app, or just decide you were too embarrassed by your time to continue. This was a B-I-G commitment, and as soon as I told one person, that was that. I had to do it.*

But what I’ve learned three years into my running journey is I have literally zero natural talent or ability. Up until this January, no run had ever felt easy to me. I fight (for my life, sometimes) for nearly every mile I run.

I’ve watched other people in my life start marathon training, a year or two “behind” me, and be consistently able to run faster and farther – not to mention, without the beet red face or chance of cardiac arrest (Seriously, I had an Orangetheory coach stop me once while I was running to ask if I was going to be ok). While I’m so proud of them, I am also constantly wondering, “What gives? What am I doing wrong?”

The answer is, probably nothing. I mean sure, I have never run a perfect training plan (if you tell me you have, I don’t believe you). I have skipped long runs, I majorly cut back speed training earlier this year after getting tendonitis, and I’m not willing to push myself through injury or illness. But I do get out there, I put in a decent number of miles, and I certainly have pushed through some pretty serious metaphorical walls. That doesn’t mean I will ever live up to the others around me or the unrealistic expectations this sport occasionally puts on newer runners to make them feel like they “deserve” to be here.

I think it takes a special kind of person (perfectionist, obsessive, competitive, slightly insane) to continue doing an activity at which you are not very good. I struggled a lot when starting to run, wondering why I wasn’t getting “better” as fast as everyone else. Why I was running slower marathons than people who had been running for a shorter amount of time. It is really quite a mindf***, especially three hours into a long run.

But after a lifetime of avoiding physical activity at all costs, I’ve found a form of movement that not only motivates me to get outside regularly, but also encourages me to keep trying even in the face of incredible mediocrity. I’m not the best runner out there, not even close, but am I incrementally better than I was on August 22, 2023? You bet.

If I had devoted more time to physical activity in my youth, would I be “better?” If I had listened to my 7th-grade science teacher, who told me to sign up for cross country, would I be running less embarrassing marathon times? Maybe (seriously, how much have I regretted little goth-I-hate-authority-Erin’s decision there), but chances are I just don’t have any natural athletic gift and every bit of progress I make will feel harder than it seems to be for other people. Although, the operative word here is “seems” – social media is very far from real, and people are likely struggling in ways they never let on.

I don’t think I will ever be a “good” runner, in the sense that I doubt I will ever run time qualifier races, I won’t be on a podium (even at my local 5K), I won’t be running an 8-minute mile. That used to devastate me. But the whole point of running is to find joy in it, and I’m finding joy without being anything more than incredibly mediocre. It is ok to do, and enjoy, something you’re not very good at.

Thanks for reading my rambling thoughts.

*Yes, I know people sign up and run marathons untrained. But this is a bad idea, don’t do it.