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I Am Not A Runner

by Colleen Gauthier

It is amazing how quickly and easily we believe others when they utter the word "can't." We've all experienced this phenomenon: You envision something new you think you may want to try — perhaps it is a career change, or maybe you want to take up painting or learn to fly. You tentatively tell somebody else about your fantasy in hopes that they will say, "I always thought you'd be great at that!" only to hear something to the effect of, "What are you, crazy? You can't do that!"

Well, I'm here to tell you you're NOT crazy, you CAN do it, and you are the perfect person to attempt it!

My bout of insanity began with the "crazy" idea to run a marathon. It was an unusual idea for a number of reasons:

1. I didn't even know what a marathon really was
2. Running was not at all appealing to me
3. I had never run a day in my life.

I was hired by the American Diabetes Association in October 2000 to coordinate its TEAM DIABETES marathon program, a fund-raising event in which people train to run or walk a marathon and raise funds for diabetes research in the process. The word "marathon" stirred memories of watching the Ironman on TV when I was younger. I remember seeing this skinny woman wearing tiny shorts who looked so sick and exhausted, yet she was still running. This sight appalled me; I just couldn't comprehend why someone would do this to themselves.

I envisioned TEAM DIABETES as a group of young, fantastically fit and energetic fitness fanatics and I thought there was no way I was going to get up in the morning and run with those crazy people. Much to my surprise, the TEAM members were nothing of the sort. They were a motley crew of mothers, professionals, students and grandparents; all with the desire to make a difference in their own lives and in the life of someone with diabetes. Their passion was overwhelming and I soon began to think to myself, "If these people can do it, then so can I."

Getting the Gears Going
My first attempt at running was on Thanksgiving 2000. I ran the Troy Turkey Trot 5K and hated every second of it. The strange sense of elation afterward was quite unexpected, though. So was the camaraderie I felt with my fellow runners; we all lined up 10 minutes before the race for one last bathroom stop, we sat wherever we could find room to stretch our cold muscles and we traded stories of moments along the course.

A few months later after the pain of my first experience subsided, I decided to try again. I went out for a run in January; through ice, snow and whipping winds I ran and ran. I wasn't really sure how far I went until I returned to where I had started and someone told me I had done close to 7 miles. I guess you could say that ignorance was on my side that day; I never would've attempted to run that far, but once I knew that I could do it, I was certain that I could finish a marathon.

I set my sights on the Quebec City Marathon in August and began my training. There were countless days when I would wake up, searching for a reason why I couldn't run. I would imagine an ache in my leg, or I would feel a mysterious one-hour flu coming on. I admit that, there were times that I peeked at my alarm clock, pulled the covers over my head and went back to sleep. I eventually learned that those extra hours of sleep didn't compare to the feeling I would have after completing my long run before most people had their morning coffee.

When marathon day finally arrived, I felt ready. We ran on a cool, crisp morning, winding through sleepy neighborhoods and tiny towns. During the first 18 miles, I felt fantastic. I was waving and saying "bonjour" to the bystanders, stopping every other mile or so to eat and drink. I picked up a pink sponge at mile 19 and wiped my face and neck. At mile 20 I met my parents and cousin and smiled as they snapped photos and cheered.

But by mile 21, I was quite nauseous and still gripping the now bone-dry pink sponge, turning it over and over in my hand, welcoming the distraction from my upset stomach. Mile 22 I had an insatiable craving for pizza. A man at a water stop was munching on a can of Pringles, and I called out for one. He laughed and waved; I couldn't understand what was so funny. I glared at him and ate a vanilla PowerBar instead.

For the next 4.2 miles, the only words I managed to speak were "Is this what hitting the wall feels like?" When I rounded the final corner and saw the finish line for the first time, though, I suddenly forgot everything that I had just gone through. From somewhere deep inside, I felt a burst of energy flow through my body. I sprinted to the finish, crossing the line at 5 hours, 49 minutes. Running straight into the awaiting arms of my family, I sobbed uncontrollably with an overwhelming sense of pride, relief and exhaustion.

It takes just over five and a half hours to drive from Albany to Quebec City. It took the same amount of time for me to run the 26.2 miles of the Quebec City Marathon. Coincidence? Probably. But it is no coincidence that I was able to run a marathon just 9 months after taking my first strides. All it took was tuning out the words of the skeptics and ascertaining a bit of faith in my abilities.

I still wouldn't call myself a runner and I definitely don't love running, but there's one thing I'm sure of: the word "can't" has dropped from my vocabulary forever. So whether your crazy dream is to walk a mile, bike through the Adirondacks, or learn to ski, go for it! You can do it, and take it from me, it will be the most satisfying experience you've ever had.

Colleen Gauthier is currently working for Elsevier Science, a health science publishing company in Albany, NY. She still runs occasionally and since the marathon, she has resolved to take on one new challenge every six months... any suggestions?

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