I’m training for a marathon because my therapist told me to. Or well, she didn’t exactly tell me to. Let me backtrack a little.
Some six or seven years ago, when my mom was going through chemotherapy, I decided to see a therapist to help me manage my anxiety. My therapist’s name was Dr. F…and…I can’t even remember her last name. She was most definitely Italian, so in my head, I often refer to her as Dr. Fazool, as in pasta fazool.
Anyway, I approached therapy very ambitiously as a 15-year-old. I wanted to fix the feelings in my mind and do things right. In other words, I wanted to ace therapy.
A few sessions in, I asked Dr. F what tools I could use to help me manage the dark thoughts and feelings that kept creeping into my mind — the many what-ifs that accompany a parent’s sickness. “Maybe you could try exercise,” she told me. “That might relieve some of the stress that you’re feeling.”
At that point in my life, I had never been anything close to an athlete. Perpetually chubby and nerdy, I was referred to in middle school as a “whale” by my bullies and no boys in my class dared to have a crush on me.
Still, I had tried my hand at sports over the years — namely, soccer and tennis, the latter of which I liked a good bit and helped me get into somewhat better shape. But when my coach decided I was decent enough to try my hand in a singles tournament, I immediately balked at the prospect.
I have Serena Williams legs, I would tell myself when I felt insecure about my body. I may not be the fastest or the fittest, but I’m built to be strong. This was the refrain I would repeat to myself throughout adolescence and continue to repeat to myself now as an adult.
So, when Dr. F suggested that I try exercise again, I knew I would have to pick more of a solitary sport. I couldn’t try soccer again — I would compare myself too much to my teammates. I also couldn’t try tennis again — the thought of being alone on display in tournaments was still terrifying to me.
I decided to pick the sport I knew my body was least prone to and the form of exercise I knew would be the most challenging to me: running.
I began running towards the tail end of high school and gradually became better at it, enjoying the endorphin rush that would reduce the almost ever-present anxiety and stress I felt. I took things one quarter of a mile at a time, and then one half mile, and soon I could run a mile straight — something I had never been able to do throughout our school’s many presidential fitness tests.
For the first half of college, I took a break from running. Then I had a phase where I ran too much and became obsessed with my own weight loss and eating habits. The person I was dating at the time had a similar attitude to exercise and weight loss, which didn’t really help things much either.
With change and with time, I was able to break the cycle I had found myself in. I began to run for my own joy, my own endurance, and never really for speed. I didn’t want to run anymore to look a certain way or please any person. I began to run to compete against myself, to better myself, and it was a nice cherry on top to find someone new who shared this mentality too.
I guess this is all to say, now I find myself training to run a marathon and honestly…I’m amazed. I never thought I would find myself here.
As I train, I’m still often insecure about how my body looks. I know that I don’t have a runner’s body in any way, shape or form — but at the end of the day, I know I’ve got Serena Williams legs.
I know I can go the distance, and I know that going the distance takes work — both physically and mentally.
Thank you, Dr. F.
