I recently took up a part-time seasonal gig at a running store near my apartment as a running instructor for a Learn to Run course. I have around six dedicated participants who agree to follow my lead and train for 10 weeks for a spring 5K. Some used to run, some never ran, some hate the idea of running, and all agree that sunshine makes any run a bit happier.
As anyone who has kept up with the running elements of this blog would know, I am not fast. I am comfortably mediocre when it comes to speed, averaging a 10:30 mile for runs less than 6 miles, and closer to 11:00 for most half-marathons. So I was initially shy about applying for the instructor position due to my unshakeable feeling that All Runners Are Twig-Thin and Run 7 Minute Miles. How could a Human Who Likes to Run But Who Is Not Twig-Thin and Does Not Run 7 Minute Miles be so bold as to lead a course on running? The audacity!
This is ludicrous, of course, given that I know many, many normal-sized humans who are excellent runners and I would never deem them anything LESS than a true blue runner. But, alas, I haven't quite fixed the bug in my brain that tells me I am not, and will never be, a Runner (capital "R"). Marathons, half-marathons, I'm still just a fast walker in fancy Asics.
Self-doubt notwithstanding, I really wanted the job. And now that we're in our third week, I can say that I enjoy it. The natural cheerleader in me thrives on encouraging the downhearted so I'm drawn to the frustration that beginning runners feel. A leader in such a course doesn't need to be fast, in fact, it's better if they're not. They just need to love to run, love the process, love the practice, love the inch by inch sucesss of increasing mileage. A few of the girls are a little speedier than the others so I pace my time between the two groups, speeding up or dropping back to cheer as needed. They ask me questions about blisters, food, carbs, stretching, socks, and shoes. And, generally, I have answers. Not perfect answers, but answers born of a few years on the road, a few injuries, a few mistakes (do not, under any circumstances, eat a tuna salad sandwich before a half-marathon in 90 degree heat unless you want to throw up). We talk about the day, the weather, work, trips, and training. It's a brief respite on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Sundays, that reminds me why I run in the first place.
Not because I'm good or because I'm fast. But because I've never met a mile I regretted running.
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