I said I would never run a marathon - here's why I did it

I said I would never run a marathon - here's why I did it

Many people hesitate to call themselves runners. They're not fast enough, they'll say; they don't run far enough. I used to agree. I thought runners were born that way, and as someone who never really ran unless I had to, it seemed like running for exercise (or—gasp!—fun) just wasn't in my DNA. (Join our 30-Day Running Challenge to run faster, increase your endurance, and more.)

But I think I'm wired to seek challenges and I work best under pressure. As much as I enjoyed my ClassPass membership, I was burned out hopping from studio to studio with no real end goal in mind. So I signed up for a 10K in mid-April last year. I had never run more than three miles in my entire life (and those were lame miles), so trying to double my distance by the first weekend in June felt pretty big. And I did it! It wasn't pretty - race day was damn hot, my feet hurt, I wanted to run and thought I might end up throwing up. But I was proud that I set that goal and followed through with it.

I didn't stop there. I have planned to do a half marathon in October. During that race, the friend I was running with told me that she thought I could tackle a marathon next. I laughed and said, sure - but just because I could doesn't mean I want to.

I didn't want to because I didn't consider myself a runner. And if I didn't feel like a runner, how could I force myself to run so long or so damn far? Sure, I ran, but runners I knew chose to do it in their free time just because they enjoyed it. I don't enjoy running. OK, that doesn't mean I never have fun running. But that's not why I do it. I run because it's one of the few ways to find some solitary peace in a city of over eight million people. At the same time, it helped me find a group of friends who motivate me when I can't motivate myself. I run because it has helped keep chronic depression at bay; because it's an outlet for the stress that builds up during the work week. I run because I can always run faster, stronger and longer. And I love how I feel every time I think about a speed or time I've never done before and crush it.

After that race I continued running. And somewhere between the end of my second half marathon in November and the final run of 2015 on New Year's Eve, I realized that I had not only been looking forward to my runs, but I had been longing for them.

In January I became restless without a specific goal to work towards. Then I was offered the opportunity to run the Boston Marathon. The Boston Marathon is the only marathon I've ever been interested in - especially before I started running. I went to college in Boston. For three years, I celebrated Marathon Monday while sitting on a raised trellis on Beacon Street and cheering on the runners with my sisters. Back then, I never imagined that I would one day be on the other side of the barricade. When I signed up, I wasn't even sure if I would make it to the finish line. But the Boston Marathon is a part of my history, and this would give me the chance to be a part of the race's history too. I had to at least try.

I took my training seriously - I was a complete newbie getting the chance to run one of the most prestigious races in the country and I didn't want to jeopardize it. That meant scheduling after-work runs until 8:30 p.m. (because even marathon training couldn't turn me into a morning exerciser), skipping drinking on Friday evenings if I didn't want to suffer from bad stomach problems, my long runs on Saturdays, and sacrificing up to four hours of potential brunch time on those Saturdays (that's suuuucked). There were short runs where my legs felt like lead, long runs where I cramped every mile. My feet looked gnarly and I was rubbing in places that should never be rubbed. (See: What Running a Marathon Really Does to Your Body.) There were times when I wanted to finish a mile in one run and times when I wanted to skip my run entirely.

But despite all that, I enjoyed the process. I wouldn't use the "F" word, but every mile I added to my long runs and every second I shaved off my speed runs meant I was logging new PRs on the reg, which was pretty awesome. Who doesn't love this sense of achievement? So when I had an off day, I refused to break out. I didn't want to let myself get down - not at the moment and not on race day. (Here are 17 things to expect when you run your first marathon.)

I don’t know when it clicked for me; there was no “aha!” Moment. But I'm a runner. I became a runner a long time ago, back when I first laced up my sneakers and decided to run - even if I didn't know it at the time. If you run, you are a runner. It's that simple. I still don't enjoy it, but it's so much more. It's empowering, exhausting, challenging, miserable, exciting - sometimes all within a mile.

I never thought I would run 26.2 miles. I didn't even think I could do that. But when I stopped worrying about what made me a runner and just focused on the actual running, I surprised myself at what I was truly capable of. I'm running a marathon because I thought I couldn't and I wanted to prove me wrong. I finished it to show other people that they shouldn't be afraid to start. Hey, it might even be fun.