Page 17 of Get Me to the Starting Line

“Alright, well, try to just use that word when you’re frustrated or you take a poop, okay, buddy?” I tell Levi, who is now smushing peanut butter bread onto his face.

“Auntie Paige likes to eat peanut butter bread before her big runs. Should I call her and ask her how to start running?”

A shudder rocks through me—a visceral reaction to the thought of asking Paige for help. It goes against everything I’ve worked for inmy life. She shouldn’t have to help me run. It’s putting one foot in front of the other. Even my toddler can do it.

Though I hope I’ll be a little steadier on my feet than Levi—he falls a lot. I’m sure if I search “How to start running when you hate it,” a million articles will come up. I don’t need to ruin my sister’s post-engagement bliss with this.

Not that she’d mind. She’d be over the moon. But I know my sister. Before long she’ll be here, shoes laced up, running vest on, a huge smile on her face, ready to whip me into shape.

I have to figure out if I can even do this. When was the last time I ran? Elementary school? Probably jogging through the airport—does that count? I guess I chase after Levi, but is that even considered running?

If I can keep up with an eighteen-month-old, how hard could running a half marathon be?

Turnsoutthere’swaymore information out there than I thought. From what shoes to wear to how to fuel, there’s so much to learn I don’t even know where to start.

Instead of listening to all the conflicting advice, I decide to lace up the old pair of runners I dug out of the back of my closet and head out for a walk. Hauling Levi into the stroller is as good a warm-up as any—my muscles are sore from wrestling him into the straps.

Once he’s in, I make sure he has plenty of snacks and toys attached to his seat. Critical for me to be able to do something like this.

And by something like this, I don’t know what I mean because I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m up early because Levi is up early. He loves to chase those sunrises, the little devil. So when I get out of my apartment and make it to the path near my place, it’s still fairly dark and almost no one is around. A chill pricks the back of my neck and I don’t care for the feeling. It dawns on me that this could possibly be unsafe.

Being alone in the dark gives me a sense of unease but I push it away, walking at a brisk pace to escape the feeling of someone following me. Every time I turn, there’s no one behind me. The more time passes, the more I relax as the sun continues to rise.

That’s when I begin to see other people walking and runners start pushing the pace of the path. I didn’t realize how many of them there would be. In the past ten minutes, I’ve counted fifteen.

“Alright, Leah, let’s try this out,” I mutter to myself. I pick up my feet and start running. One foot in front of the other.

Fine, this isn’t so bad.

I don’t know what I was scared of, this is pretty easy.

Pushing the stroller is adding some resistance, but I don’t mind it. Levi clearly likes it—he’s babbling away, making all his favourite sounds. He’s only quiet when we see other people coming towards us, and if anyone greets him, he chomps his little teeth together, earning him a variety of looks.

The wind picks up, and the stroller pushes against my arms as it catches the breeze.

That makes it harder.

Did the temperature just rise? Why is it so hot all of the sudden?

My legs are feeling heavy.

Holy shit, my lungs are about to burst.

I try to keep my breathing even and my steps light when people pass me, but as soon as they’re out of sight, I heave in gulps of air and my feet pound against the pavement.

Fuck this.

That had to be like ten minutes.

Slowing to a walk so I don’t die, I open my phone.

“Bullshit!” I exclaim. It’s been exactly forty-five seconds.

“Shit,” Levi’s little voice repeats.

Ugh.

I keep going and try to run a few more times, but I never get past a minute of running. Feeling defeated and discouraged, I turn around and head back to my apartment. The clock taunts me. I was, at best, gone for fifteen minutes. And I know it’s physically impossible to run a half marathon in fifteen minutes.

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