Confidence is 10km away — Just Because, Amanda

I ran my first 10 km!

I know this may not sound like much of an accomplishment but hear me out, because it meant so much more to me than just being sweaty for 10,000 meters.

I’ve never been much of a runner. The last time I remember running long distance I was in the fourth grade and was part of the cross-country club and I remember my dad being there at the finish line and I was so proud to have completed something. I was also a competitive gymnast and in amazing shape, but left that not long after, grew up, got a little lazy, and let asthma start kicking my butt. I fell in love with other sports though, and have always stayed active, but I could never keep up with running and it got farther and father out of reach. The idea of a distance run became more of a bucket list item than something I could realistically just do, it was something I only really aspired of ever completing.

Fast forward to January of this year, and my co-workers are tossing around the idea of doing a 10km run together (we have a run club, but the farthest we go is 5 km, and that’s a struggle on some of my best days). They threw the idea back and forth and one by one started registering, but it never crossed my mind that I could do it. I only signed up because I read that you could walk as little or as much of the course as you needed too (which was much easier to digest, I’ve done distance walks before this would be no problem). I’m lucky enough to have some pretty fitness minded people in my close circle of work friends, and with their encouragement, I bit the bullet, and registered myself.

I knew that I could do at least half, but in recent years, even with steady jogs (I don’t think the speed I move at can be considered running) I could only ever get through about 7 kilometres before both my lungs and my legs start of fail me. My goal was to get back there, if I could jog 7 of the 10, I would consider that a win.

There are a few challenges when you start running (a bunch that no one really warns you about, but that’s a story for another day), but a big one is my lack of attention span. Late winter in Canada relegates those of us who fear the cold to running inside on a treadmill, which might be one of the most boring things in the fitness world. You’re sweaty, miserable (if you’re anything like me) and have nothing but being sweaty and miserable to think about, with a background soundtrack of panting and house music. It took a lot of failed attempts to get going, but with the help of movie streaming, I managed to get myself up to a few km on the treadmill. I had months to prepare and was well on my way!

Then I got the flu.

Not the “cough a lot and try not to spread it around” flu but the one that leaves you a fever, chills, and a completely inability to function for a couple weeks. Goodbye stamina, hello starting from scratch.

Got back to it and managed over the next couple months to work my way back up to 5km. I even spoiled myself with a new pair of runners a couple weeks before the race in hopes it would give me the extra oomph to get to my 7-kilometre goal. I knew it would be more than I had done in a long time, but I wanted to at least give it to good solid try. As much as I have gotten bored and had to start over multiple times since I beginning this adventure, I wanted to go into it knowing I had actually put effort in to do my best. I hate the feeling of letting myself down and knowing I could have done more. I got my diet back up to snuff (I don’t always have the best self control, and I really REALLY like pizza and doughnuts) and put everything I had into training. Regular runs at different distances, stretching and foam rolling to help in recovery, trying to sleep enough to be a functional person. When race weekend came around, I was feeling pretty ready, but also realistic about what I could accomplish. Cautiously optimistic about what I was about to undertake and excited at the prospect of completing my goal.

Mornings are a struggle for me, mornings that start before 6 are even worse, but I managed to drag myself out of bed on race day and end up at the start line on time (a feat if you knew my family history of tardiness). I was a mix of excited and nervous, surrounded by people running on the spot, and stretching. I had no idea that this was the largest run in Toronto and being in a 22,000 person crowd was something I hadn’t really experienced before. It was invigorating, in a way that is kind of hard to explain. People were excited, and amped up (some even without coffee!) and I just wanted to feed off that energy. When people started taking off from the finish line in the first wave there was this palpable hum from the crowd. The excitement took over and my nerves melted away, I had prepared as much as I could and now was time to do my best and just have fun!

Here we go!

My wave took off and we all started, I picked my favourite pacing song and got going. My goal was to make it to 5km before slowing down to take a walking break, which was the longest I had done without a break in my training. I felt pretty good and hit that halfway marker with good enough pace that I felt like I could keep going. The course had a downhill slope for a large portion, so that made it a little easier. “Just one more kilometer and then I can slow down.” Six kilometers, Seven kilometers, Eight kilometers the crowd just swept me along with them and I kept going. I hadn’t run this far without needing to slow down and knowing that I had done better than my best was invigorating. Could I really go the full distance? Naaaaahhhhhhh, but maybe?

Nine kilometers.

I’m starting to feel each step now, I can feel it in my knees and my muscles. The sun is up and beating now and it is HAWT. I can feel that my lungs are starting to burn and I’m beginning to struggle. I might need to walk, I might not be able to do this. Just a little further, one more push. The markers aren’t counting up our distance anymore but are instead counting down to the finish. We are down to just a few hundred meters now, but those markers are like an old school fitness instructor that just keeps saying “one more left” over and over again. The course isn’t straight anymore, we are twisting and turning through the Toronto streets, and it feels like that last little distance will never end. I don’t want to slow down, I’ve made it this far and now I just want to finish and be able to say that I did it. I come around the final bend …. and there it is, the glorious beautiful finish line! I was going to make it!

Crossing that finish line was HUGE for me, a mix of excitement and relief. I had my hopes for a good finish, but I had exceeded my own expectations, which is infinitely better than a giant helping of disappointment pie. Not only had I exceeded my own goal, but I had a pretty solid finish time by “non-runner” standards (just a hair over an hour). I took a chance, pushed my limits and tried my hardest not to doubt myself along the way. I had a couple hurdles, but nothing worth doing comes easy otherwise what’s the point? I guess what I’m trying to say (in no concise manner at all) is I’m proud of what I accomplished, and it’s opened my eyes a little more about what I can do when I move past my doubts.

And since we aren’t so different under our candy coating, that must mean a lot is possible for you too.

So here is my challenge, should you choose to accept it. Get out, push your limits and believe in yourself. You might be pleasantly surprised by what you can do. Prove your critics wrong (especially when they are the voices holding you back) and exceed expectations. Be willing to put in the work for the things that matter to you and take pride in yourself and your accomplishments. Because if I can drag my sorry sweating ass 10 kilometers and still cross the finish line with a smile on my face, there isn’t anything you can’t do.

Embrace your awesome. I’m working on embracing mine.