One Small Step

One small step.

That’s all it seemed like I was doing – one small step after another.  I’m not sure what I was doing could be considered running, but somehow I was still moving.  Rather than look at the far away crest of the hill, I looked down at my feet.  One small step.  Another small step.  “Am I shuffling or running?” I thought to myself.  I continued on in this manner, one small step at a time.

You know where this is going, right?  I made it to the top of the hill.  This wouldn’t be a very motivating post if I didn’t, would it? 

I didn’t use to be a “runner,” even though it seemed my entire family was born with sneakers laced up.  My Dad has been doing races for as long as I can remember.  My sister joined him and did her first 5k at 7 years old.  My brother ran cross-country in high school.  Growing up, the only running I ever did was when I got in trouble for running my mouth at cheerleading practice and was sent to jog the quarter mile track, huffing and puffing and praying no one on the football team could tell it was me.

When I graduated from high school, I decided I better find something to replace the cheerleading and dance to ward off the infamous freshmen fifteen I had been warned of.  So, I decided I wanted to be a runner.  I called my friend, Mariel and asked her “how do you run?”  After catching her breath through her laughter, she gave me a few helpful tips and wished me good luck.

I can remember the first day I went for a run.  It was a warm May day in upstate New York.  (Fortunately, humidity wassn’t something I’d have to contend with until a few months later, when I relocated to North Carolina.)  I had my brand new running clothes on, and a fresh pair of running sneakers.  I headed out the door, head held high, sneakers pounding the pavement proudly…. and made it to the end of the street before I was bent over, side stitch impaling me, run finished.

For curiosity sake, I just looked up what the distance was from the front door of my house to the end of my street.  0.3 miles.  This means I was probably moving for about 3-and-a-half or four minutes.  Well… you gotta start somewhere right?

Many, many small steps later, running has become a regular part of my life.  I’ve run 26.2 miles once, 13.1 miles twice and 3.2 miles more times than I can count.  I’ve run to shake writer’s block, I’ve run to stay awake after (a few) all nighters, I’ve run to push away a heartache, I’ve run to prove to someone that I can. I’ve run to train, I’ve run to burn calories, I’ve run to lose weight.  But mostly, these days, I run just to run.  It still sort of amuses me that those who’ve met me in the last decade consider me a runner, because so often in my head, I’m still that girl in the brand new sneakers gasping for breath at the stop sign of Guilford and Cranston. 

There are many, many small steps between that girl standing at a street corner, embarassed and defeated, and the girl who trudged up a hill today, in North Carolina humidity.  I still rarely find that running is “easy”, but today, I know I can do it.  As miserable as that hill was today, I knew I’d make it.  It might be ugly, it might be slow, and it might not even be a motion that would constitute was “running” but, one small step at a time, I knew I would finish it. 

The one step at a time is the only way I know to approach a goal that feels monumental.  To me, running 3 miles was monumental.  And then running 6 was, and then running 13 was.  Today, when I train for a half marathon, I start at the bare minimum of my comfort zone and push about 10% more than.  Each time, a few more small steps than what I know I can do.  This year, after a long winter hiatus, I started with a mile.  I’ll be honest, it’s going to take a long time to get to 13.  But I know I will get there – one small step at a time.

What marathon are you putting off training for?  Is it the overwhelming clutter that’s taking over your house, keeping you from being able to relax and find peace in your home?  Is it the monumental number on the scale that you’d have to peel off to be at a healthy weight?  Is it going back to school or beginning the process of a major career change?  Is it getting your finances organized or paying down massive credit? 

Most of us have hills that look incredibly intimidating when we’re standing at the bottom.  We can imagine how glorious it would feel to be coasting down the other side, but the actual journey of getting to the top?  We can only think about how hard it will be, how uncomfortable, maybe even painful it will be, and how long it will take.  Or maybe you’re like me, and part of what’s holding you back is the image you have of yourself – or, as I like to say, the story you’re telling yourself.  If I clung desperately to the idea that I really was that girl who couldn’t get past that first stop sign, I’d still be there.  Don’t get me wrong – I haven’t somehow morphed into Paula Radcliffe in the last ten years – but I’m moving.  One small step at a time. 

What’s your marathon?  Do you have a story about yourself that’s holding you back?  Is the pain of trudging up the hill really worse than standing at the bottom of it, looking up?  If you’re holding back because your goal is going to take a long time, think of it this way: a year is going to pass, one way or another.  Five years are going to pass.  Ten years are going to pass.  They can either pass with you still standing at the stop sign, gasping for breath, or you can be moving with them.  Maybe shuffling along sometimes, but moving still – one small step at a time. 
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