The word “runner” was never in my vocabulary. I grew up hating running but yet, I always wanted to be a runner. To me, running seemed like the epitome of health and fitness. Plus it just looked like people were having so much fun. On a whim I decided to sign up for a half-marathon. Nothing like jumping in with both feet at once, right?

I signed up for the Calgary Stampede Road Race in 2011. To say my training was terrible would be putting it mildly. The longest I ran prior to race day was 6.5 miles and I only did that once. So to state the obvious, the race was hard for me…really hard! I remember fantasizing for the entire second half of the race the different ways to pretend to twist my ankle so I could bow out “gracefully”. However, despite wanting to quit I continued to run, repeatedly singing Destiny’s Child’s “I’m a Survivor” in my head. By some miracle, I finished that race with a time of 2:24, under my goal of 2:30.

After that race, I felt content. I could say I had run a half marathon; I had no desire to try again. And so I stopped running until the following summer when my friend asked me if I wanted to go to the Rock n’ Roll half-marathon in Las Vegas. I’m not sure if I heard her say half-marathon, I just remember saying, “Vegas Baby!”

And so I started running again. And to my surprise, this time I liked it. I really, really liked it. I found running gave me a sense of purpose. I enjoyed checking off days on a training plan and feeling accomplished at the end of the week when I had logged the miles. Unfortunately during that training cycle I got injured and wasn’t able to run the Rock n’ Roll half-marathon but I’ll get my redemption this November when I run that race! Despite the injury I wasn’t ready to give up running.

I had found my passion for running. I realized that in addition to the whole host of health benefits from running I also gained self-confidence, I became a happier person and I met so many amazing people who are part of the running community.

I started signing up for every race I could possibly attend. However, the word “runner” still wasn’t in my vocabulary. To me, runner meant someone who was fast. Someone who could show off their splits and proudly display their sub 2 hour half-marathon times. I run in the 10-11 minute/mile range so I didn’t feel worthy of calling myself a runner. Perhaps slow-jogger was a better term for myself.

But as I reflected on what I had accomplished and how far I had come from the days of hating running I realized, I am a runner. There is no pace that dictates what a runner is. If you get outside (or inside on a treadmill) and start running or run/walking or slowly jogging, you are a runner. You are part of the club. And believe me, it’s an awesome club!

I have now run 8 half-marathons and 2 full-marathons, including the New York Marathon. Running is now a huge part of my life. It’s my passion, my purpose and my primary drive in life. The word runner is not only in my vocabulary, it’s a word that defines me.

Reposted with Permission from Pretty Little Grub