I didn’t start running because I was inspired.
I didn’t lace up my shoes one day, full of excitement and energy, ready to tackle a new fitness goal. The truth is: I started running because I was tired. The kind of tired that sleep didn’t fix.
It was January 2022, things were starting to get back to normal after t he pandemic. Life had been turned upside down for so long, and when things started settling, I looked at myself and realized I didn’t feel like “me” anymore. My body felt slow. My energy was low. But what broke me the most? I couldn’t keep up with my daughter.
She was full of life, always moving, always excited—and I couldn’t match her pace. Not even close. Every time I had to say “no” to playing or sit down because I felt drained, there was this quiet guilt that crept in. Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just that low hum of “I wish I could do more.”
That feeling—that slow ache of not being able to show up the way I wanted to as a mom—was what pushed me out the door. Not a resolution. Not a milestone. Just a hope that maybe running could help me become someone with a little more energy, a little more strength, a little more to give.
I Couldn’t Run for 30 Seconds—So I Started With Walking
Let me be completely honest: I couldn’t even run for 30 seconds.
Not a metaphor. Not an exaggeration. Thirty seconds was all it took for my lungs to panic, my legs to ache, and my brain to tell me to stop. The first few attempts were rough. Embarrassing, even. I remember wondering, Is something wrong with me? Why is this so hard? I’ve never been an athlete, but I didn’t expect it to feel impossible right out the gate.
So instead of giving up, I shifted. I walked.
I walked slowly at first. Around the neighborhood. Just enough to say, “I moved today.” I walk with my husband, who had already been trying to get me to run with him. He was the one who planted the idea in my head. He motivated me—not in a loud, cheerleader kind of way, but in the way that nudges you gently and says, you can do hard things.
I didn’t love walking either, to be honest. I didn’t love any of it. But I kept doing it. Because even if it didn’t feel great, it felt better than staying stuck. And when I noticed that my clothes were fitting differently, that I had a bit more energy at the end of the day, something clicked. Maybe this was working.
Breathing Was the Hardest Part
Most people talk about sore muscles when they start running. And yes, my legs were on fire—but for me, the hardest part was breathing. I felt like I couldn’t get enough air, no matter how slow I went. I’d gasp, panic, and stop. Over and over again.
The pain in my chest wasn’t just physical. It made me question if I was cut out for this. Every time I stopped to catch my breath, I felt like a failure. But the thing is—I kept coming back. Even when I hated it. Even when I wanted to quit. There was a stubborn part of me that refused to let this be one more thing I gave up on.
I realized that breathing might not get easier right away—but I could get better at managing it. I started focusing on walking with purpose. On building a little bit of stamina at a time. I stopped comparing myself to others and started paying attention to my own small wins.
I Don’t Feel Like a Runner—But I Run Anyway
Can I tell you something? I still don’t feel like a runner.
I don’t have the gear. I’m not fast. I’m not graceful. I’m not thin. I’ve never won a race and stand in the podium. But I move. I show up. I try. That counts.
There are so many of us who feel like outsiders in the world of fitness. We look at people jogging effortlessly through parks or flying by on treadmills and think, that’s not me. But why not?
What if being a runner isn’t about speed, distance, or looking a certain way—what if it’s just about not giving up?
If you’re reading this and thinking, I don’t look like a runner, let me say this: neither did I. But here I am. And if you take a single step with intention—even if you only last 30 seconds—you belong here too.
What Kept Me Going (Even When I Didn’t Want To)
When I first started, I told no one. My husband knew because he was running with me, but that was it. I didn’t post about it. I didn’t talk about it. It felt too raw, too uncertain. Like if I said it out loud, I might jinx it.
There were so many days I didn’t want to go. Days when everything hurt, when I was too tired, when I was angry at how hard this felt. But what kept me going was the smallest reward: feeling different after the run. Not amazing, not life-changing—just different. A bit more clear. A bit more proud. A bit more alive.
I didn’t expect that.
I thought the only thing I’d gain was weight loss. But I ended up gaining something better—a little more belief in myself. A little more fight.
What I’ve Learned About Myself (That I Never Expected)
This journey taught me that I am far more determined than I give myself credit for. I’ve always carried this belief that I was someone who quit too easily. Someone who started things and lost steam. But running, even the ugly, painful version of it I was doing, revealed something I didn’t expect: grit.
I don’t need to be perfect to be consistent. I don’t need to run fast to be proud. I just need to show up. And I do.
Final Thoughts: Start Small, Start Scared, Start Anyway
Running didn’t fix everything. I still have days when I don’t want to move. I still struggle with energy. I still have aches, doubts, and setbacks. But I’m not where I was in 2022—and that matters.
If you’re thinking about starting, but you feel too out of shape, too far gone, or too afraid—just know this: you’re not alone. You can start with 30 seconds. You can start with a walk. You can start exactly where you are.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.
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