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I Took Up Running at 40—And So Can You
At the age of 40, I was completely drained. Navigating the rocky terrain of a troubled marriage while juggling finances and the endless demands of nursing my fourth child left me feeling like a walking zombie. I had never felt the weight of motherhood’s clichés as intensely as I did during that time, and the thought of being a martyr was almost tangible—like I could feel it glowing on my forehead.
Sick of my living room workout routine, I pondered other ways to exercise. Gym memberships were out of the question, and swimming was already on my plate. There I was, sprawled on the couch with a baby latched onto me, feeling the extra jiggle around my waist. My eyes wandered to my running shoes, which I had never really used; I’d always considered myself a terrible runner. Sure, I could handle the treadmill, but running outside was a different story—shin splints, earaches, running noses, and even random itchy patches all over. Clearly, I thought, running wasn’t meant for me.
But then I realized: it was free. I had everything I needed right there. I could literally step outside my front door and start running. Plus, those Nike slogans seemed to be everywhere, practically daring me to seize the moment!
So, I laced up and hit the streets of suburbia. The first run was brutal. I felt like a tree being jackhammered into the pavement or swaying awkwardly in the wind—no grace, no control. But then again, it wasn’t entirely terrible. I returned home, drenched in sweat and breathless, feeling a sense of accomplishment that I desperately needed. I had disrupted the stagnant state of my body that craved movement.
If you’re considering taking up running, here are some rules I made for myself that might help you too:
It’s Okay to Take Breaks