My Running Story: The Early Years

Freshman Gym at Townsend Harris High School

I admit I was really excited the first time we went outside to run in gym. I suppose I must've recalled the days of my childhood where I could beat everybody in tag, climb the tallest trees, and do pull-ups every day. I felt super confident that I would be the fastest out of all the freshmen. So of course I sprinted like a madman at the start. and I totally died.

As I dragged my legs around that asphalt track on the first day, I decided that I officially hated running. But every time we went out, I would somehow forget the pain and agony of the previous week, and excitement and adrenaline would build up inside me as I stood waiting for my gym teacher to signal the start. Every week I'd take off with the front of the pack (consisting of students on the track team who, unlike me, were physically able to run more than half a lap at a decent pace) and I would promptly experience unimaginable pain and despair.

I was particularly jealous of these two girls on the track team who could sprint like crazy during gym and actually not die. I began to think that joining the track team would magically make people be able to run super fast. At the time, I was on the Varsity bowling team (average game 72, what what!), but I wasn't really feelin' the team spirit. Maybe because of previously-mentioned average game score. The coach was really a very nice lady, but she had no problem sending me off to lanes located way in the back of the building so I could "practice" while matches were going on. I figured I might have the same experience if I joined the track team. I'd probably be sent out to jog in deserted alleys by myself while everybody else partied together and competed in the Olympics. So joining track was out of the question.

The summer after freshman year, I tagged along a few times to the neighborhood track with my dad. He jogged for exercise and always talked about how much fun it was. The first time I went with him, I started off relaxed and comfortably, and what do you know! I lasted a mile! It was pretty awesome.
We went back the next week and I did 2 miles (very slowly). We didn't go that often, but by the end of the summer I had done a three-mile run. I was thinking about joining cross-country in the fall of sophomore year but alas, I never got around to it. I still ran occasionally with my dad though, and we signed up for our first 5k in November 2004. The Mineola Mustang Run!

We got to Mineola high school early, and there was lots of food everywhere. Ten minutes before the race started, I had two bagels with cream cheese. I also had to go to the bathroom, but I figured it didn't really matter- I could just wait until the end of the race. At the race start, Dad lined up at 10 minute mile pace but, like a dang fool, I went ahead confidently to the 8 minute mile. The race started, and I dashed off.

After about five minutes I had cramps, couldn't breathe, and felt like I was dying. I slowed down drastically and eventually started to walk. Actually it was more like a death march. Dad caught up to me and tried to encourage me to jog slowly. I gave him evil glares and whined a lot. I begged him to stop doing the race so we could just go home, but he pushed me through. We ended up walking the whole rest of the way, and we were almost in last place. I suppose I learned my lesson not to eat right before I run. Our time was, I believe, 41 minutes and change. It was one of the most horrible experiences of my life. But I got a really cool shirt.

The winter went by uneventfully, but on New Years Eve I made a resolution to run 1 mile every week. I don't even know why I made that resolution. I certainly was not preoccupied with anything related to health or fitness. I used to eat junk food like there was no tomorrow...
I had no shame!

Back in school after winter break, I was feeling a little sick-ish but still wanted to run around the track to get some fresh air and fulfill my resolution. I had a friend who was on the track team, so I followed her outside after school.

The coach, a math teacher at my high school, greeted me. I asked him if I could run with the team that day. Making small talk, he asked me what my mile time was. I replied "ten minutes" and I swear, he cringed haha. He told me I should run a nice easy mile around the track, so I gladly took off. I kept mostly to myself, pushing out those 4 laps at a steady pace while the rest of the track team did important-looking stretches and complicated interval workouts. My run was pretty enjoyable, so I came back the next day and did the same thing.

After that workout, the team went inside to the weight room and my friends said I could join them if I wanted. I remember doing a couple of pull ups and feeling great. Without thinking much of it, I asked the coach if I could be on the team. This was in the middle of indoor track season, mind you, and I had no speed whatsoever. His eyes widened and he said, "You mean, you want to come to practice every day, and go to the meets and all?" and I said, "Yeah!!" even though I did not know what a meet was. "Well sure," he said, and I left feeling pretty great!! Though I was completely unaware of the life-changing effects this decision would have on me.

I don't recall much about my early practices as a new member of the track team, but I do remember my first Indoor meet ever. I ran the 200m in a Sprint Medley Relay, and I won a medal and a t-shirt! I'm glad that happened because it really motivated me to keep running. It was actually the only medal I won for the rest of my entire sophomore year. And it wasn't until a long time later that I found out my team had been last (fifth place) for that meet. The top five teams get medals... Oh well, I still have the shirt and I wear it proudly!

Anyway, I was pretty darn slow and in sophomore year I admit I thought many times of quitting, especially during excruciating 400m repeats. I should emphasize again my horrific lack of fast-twitch muscle fibers. I suppose the highlight of Outdoor season was running a 3:12 in an 800m run (probably placing last, but it was a big PR). My dad was with me that day and promised to buy me chocolate truffles if I could break 3:15. Obviously I was still devoted to junk food at that time. I can even remember thinking only about Lindor chocolatey goodness on the final straightaway of the 800m. After that race I was totally dead, cramping everywhere and feeling like the world had ended. But I got my chocolate. It's weird how thats one of my clearest memories of my first year on the track team...

Oh well, stay tuned for the next installations of My Running Story! by fruitbagel

II. "Getting Less Slow, yay!"
-Junior Year on the Track Team
-Steeplechase!
-Summer after Junior Year
-my first Half Marathon

III. "The Year That I Still Can't Comprehend"
-Senior Year on the Track Team
-ACTUALLY BEING FAST, omg yay!

IV. "Beyond"
-Running in College

Thereafter, I will post about running thoughts and cool races that I do. I have always wanted to start a running blog, and while I should really be doing physics problem sets instead, I'm going to try to update this every so often. Thanks for taking the time to read this :) Please leave a comment so I can feel important!