Running Doesn’t Make Me Happy: How I Ran My First Mile at Age 30

I CAN’T RUN.

I can’t begin to count the many times I’ve said “I can’t run.” And not only that I can’t, but that I hate it.

When I was 13, I was in a junior lifeguards summer program. I always finished among the last three people in runs or run-swim-runs. The frustration and humiliation led me to claim that I was terrible at running and I hated it. I was always left walking in the dust during the high school weekly mile.

My defeat, frustration and humiliation continued, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know what was “wrong” with me. I tried inhalers and always pumped myself, thinking this will be the time I do better. I envied “runners” that could just go run. And crazily enough chose to run because they apparently enjoyed it.

I heard runners say you should be able to have a conversation while you run. How could I have a conversation when I felt like my body was about to implode and I could barely breathe, much less speak? Having a conversation while keeping up with someone else was laughable for me. I added one more detail to my defeat into my “I can’t run” box, adding to my frustration and discouragement.

Almost two decades later, while doing some research on heart rates, I learned why my experiences with running were so terrible. My heart rate shoots up into uncomfortable levels when I run, quickly making it difficult to breathe and making my chest hurt. I also have a small gait, so I have to move my legs faster to keep up with someone who has a larger gait.

Between trying to keep up and having my heart rate so high, my body was working too hard for running to be remotely enjoyable!

This article by Stephen Black from SpinFitness made the most sense to me: “When exercising in heart rate zones that are too high, you are exerting more energy than needed for effective weight loss or anaerobic training, therefore increasing your risk of injury without reward.”

For two decades, I told myself and others that I can’t run! But, in reality, if I run slowly and don’t compare myself to others who run with ease, I don’t hate running. It becomes doable for me, and that’s what’s most important.

Breaking the defeat, frustration and humiliation that I’ve reinforced each time I’ve said, “I can’t run and I hate running!” inspires me to believe that I am capable of changing, even after twenty years.