Want to fall in love with running?

Why, after almost 27 years of my life, did I suddenly become a runner?

Every time I lace up my sneakers to go for a jog, I am continually baffled I am a runner. As my feet start tapping the pavement, settling in to an easy cadence for a brief warm-up, I always have a moment of disbelief: am I really running again today? What higher power tricked me into thinking I could actually make a go of this? There are plenty of other things I could be doing right now: eating an entire loaf of bread, attempting to foster a suntan on my translucent skin, testing out couches for their nap efficiency…why, after almost 27 years of my life, did I suddenly become a runner?

It’s as confusing to me as calculus. I have always led an active lifestyle, playing sports in high school and taking dance lessons. But running was something that just never clicked for me. I was a point guard in basketball, but I never considered myself fast. I played midfield in soccer/ football, but my endurance could only go so far. I tried my luck at track and field, but felt adequate, at best. Throughout all of my athletic endeavors, I never thought I excelled at running. If you’ve ever played sports, you know exactly what goes through your head during practice: Oh, that’s so-and-so…she’s the fastest one on the team. Obviously, in this scenario, I was NOT that person. I’m proud to say that I earned the confusing award of Most Improved a few times (does that mean I was horrible to begin with? did you obviously think I needed improvement?), but I was NEVER the fastest.

My later years in high school found me opting for musical endeavors over sports, and I noticed that my overall health wasn’t as optimal as it could have been. To clarify that last sentence, let’s just say I ate way too many doughnuts and became a champion of Butt Sitting. Before I left for college, I had gained 25 pounds.

Looking back at how I began running, it’s no wonder I never wanted to give it a shot: I didn’t know how to properly begin.

When I left for university, I knew I had to make a change in my life. I began eating better, I made weekly commitments to the gym, and, surprisingly, I took up running. And if I want to specifically say that I “took up” running, I must have very promptly put it back down, because the fitness habit didn’t stick. I preferred using the elliptical at the gym because I always felt like running was tremendously hard for me. I’d start out at a moderate pace and give in to wheezing and gasping five minutes later…not my idea of a fun workout regime.

Looking back at how I began running, it’s no wonder I never wanted to give it a shot: I didn’t know how to properly begin. My fitness lifestyle brought me back to it several times over the next 10 years, but I always found an excuse every time to give it up again: my knees hurt, I only needed to lose weight for the summer, I hated running outside in the cold, my favorite TV shows were on, etc. I always thought “true” runners could a.) run really fast, b.) look good doing it, and c.) not feel tired during a run. I couldn’t do any of these things (especially the looking good part), so I convinced myself I was not a natural born runner.

Fast forward to the end of my first year of teaching. My daily routine found me waking up at 6 AM and returning home after a full day of students around 3:30 PM. Not a terrible schedule, but one that saw me devoid of energy and enthusiasm after 12 PM. I’d watch the clock tick past lunchtime and dream about taking naps at home. You know you have a problem when you’re daydreaming about sleep. I was 28 years old, not working out, and definitely not committing to a healthy eating plan. I wasn’t overweight by any means; on the contrary, I was probably the lightest I had been since college. With all that being said, I felt terrible. I knew I needed a change.

The choice to try running again was solely decided out of the desire to feel better. A friend of mine had recently begun running to trim down for a stage role, and she inspired me to lace up my gym shoes again. I remember the day with absolute clarity: it was a Friday in May, and I drove out to the local peninsula. With earbuds and iPod in tow, I started slow, knowing full well I hadn’t run in years. It still felt weird, watching myself internally as I took those tentative first steps. You’re trying this AGAIN? Don’t you remember what happens each time you try to run? I had plenty of other things to say to myself about running, but for some reason, this time I didn’t stop. This time around, running stuck.

Let’s be clear: I definitely stopped that day in May. I stopped many, many, many, MANY times that day. I would run a minute, walk a minute, run a minute, walk a minute, and I continued to do that for about 30 minutes total. There were times I thought my lungs were going to give out.

There were times I was convinced that people were staring at the gangly, out of shape girl who sounded like a tire pump. At the end, I was exhausted, out of breath, but not deterred from trying it again. In fact, I had already set a goal for my next workout by the time I finished my jog: I would run for 70 seconds at a time and build on from there. In fact, I found myself excited to jog again, hoping to best myself and my expectations. Look at me! I thought. I’m running and not hating it!

I am convinced that running became my friend that day because I let myself run at my own pace.

Looking back on that first jog in May, I wonder why that run made the difference. Why did those 2 miles launch me into a lifestyle full of 5Ks, half-marathons and mud runs? I am convinced that running became my friend that day because I let myself run at my own pace.

For the first time since hitting the pavement nearly 10 years ago, I didn’t have any expectations of what I was supposed to look like or how fast I was supposed to go. Instead, I was running for me, and no one else. And I’ve continued to do that to this day.

You don’t have to be fast. You don’t have to have perfect form. And you certainly don’t have to run for 10 miles without stopping to consider yourself successful. With any new endeavor, you won’t want to make it a habit if you don’t approach it correctly. Want to start baking? Don’t start by trying to perfect a soufflé. Want to take piano lessons? Put down that prelude by Rachmaninoff. And if you want to paint like Picasso, consider starting with Paint By Number, art classes, or just go full-throttle and fling paint at a canvas like Jackson Pollack.

Start slow. Meet your expectations. Run your own race. Run at your own pace.

Kate Amatuzzo is the owner of See, Here’s the Thing, a pop culture blog with humorous takes on movies, TV, music, health and technology. You can find her on Facebook, Twitter, near an open buffet, or typically in her sweatpants.