Are you aware? Suddenly, everyone is a runner.
There's little hyperbole here. Over the past few years, everyone I've known has been preparing for a 5k, had a half marathon on their calendar, or just can't do happy hour because it interferes with their training schedule.
Immediately after this month's Pittsburgh Marathon, my social media feeds were flooded with photos of friends and acquaintances sweating and exhausted. Hugs after the race. Supporting families. Even medals.
How did that happen? And when I say “everyone,” I'm talking about strong, middle-aged men and women, not young, toned athletes. I'm referring to people whose only athletic pursuit used to be dashing to the sales racks at Target.
I am a former teacher of one child and a mother of four. She is a friend in her 50s. She used to be my neighbor and the last time I saw her she was pregnant.
When did this happen? When did running become everyone's sport?
Confession: I hate running. Well, hate is a strong word. Let me tell you, I'm not interested in running.
This is also because the knees cannot withstand the impact. And I tend to stumble. And then I have terrifying visions of myself running and flapping through the neighborhood while my neighbors shake their heads in disbelief.
But mostly, I'm lukewarm to the idea of running because I've been there and done that. I ran track and cross country in high school (if I remember correctly, that was the year our school had an official girls cross country team). It was the late 1970s, during the first wave of the “running is a cool sport that anyone can do'' craze.
I continued running on and off throughout my 20s. I completed the 5K, I completed the 10K, I completed all the Ks.
(Confession: I started running in high school because there were cute guys there. So much for my Title IX feminist street beliefs.)
The cute guys ignored me. But even though I was an inside guy at best, I fell in love with running. I developed friendships and learned a lot about hard work and goal setting. I always look back on those days with fond memories.
But I don't want to relive them. I don't feel like lacing up my Nikes and heading out for a run on the pavement. It feels like torture, but it's over.
Lately I've been a walker. Admittedly, walking doesn't have the glory of a marathon. There's no such thing as “Walker's High.” When you post, “Wow, I walked around the block!”, “I got 1,000 steps at Costco!” No one cares.
And to be honest, I still can barely count my steps.
“You’ve taken fewer steps than last week,” my fitness app chides regularly. “You're taking fewer steps than last year.'' He can't stop nagging me.
But at least it doesn't say, “All your friends are running marathons.” Their souls will be fulfilled and their goals will be achieved. What's the problem? ”
Charlotte is a Times columnist. Please contact me at charlottelatvala@gmail.com.