I am NOT a "runner."

At a team social the other night (a.k.a. an excuse to get together, eat various fried foods, and drink beer), a few of my fellow Team in Trainers and I discussed the concept of being a "runner." I was at a table full of women (most TNT participants are female) in their prime who spend hours each week in the rain, heat, wind, etc.; who run until their toes turn purple; who spend every Friday night in bed so that they can get up at the crack of dawn for Saturday practice; and who had just finished up discussing what flavor GU (see earlier post) they enjoyed the most... and most of us were hesitant to claim that we were “runners.”

I ran 10 miles today (the longest run before my race), and I’m not sure I’ll ever be a “runner.” Why? Well… I’m just not one! I run, sure, but I do not do it gracefully. I am not quick. I do not bounce up hills with ease, and I certainly don’t pass people. I’m not rail thin, and I do not wear obscenely tiny shorts. I don’t run 8-minute miles, and I’m never at the front of the pack. These are the things that I imagine “runners” do.

No. I sweat as if I was in the Sahara. I drag my feet. I fall behind. I eat everyone’s dust. I barely finish.

But I’m there. I may not be a “runner,” but at least I’m running.