(This is cross-posted at BlogHer.)
How many days/weeks/months do you have to run before you feel comfortable saying, “I am a runner?” I started running this past January. It wasn’t a New Year’s resolution or anything — it was simply something I’d been planning to start for a while (I had, in fact, been talking about it for months), and I’d recently moved to an area where I felt comfortable running outside.
January may not seem like an optimal time of year to begin running outdoors, but the weather was still fairly pleasant in northern Virginia at the time. A few weeks later when it started getting colder, I acquired a pair of running gloves and a stretchy head wrap that covered my ears and kept the wind from rushing in. That, however, has been the extent of any running-specific accessories I’ve bought. No stopwatch; no fancy heart-rate monitor; no special clothes to wick the sweat away from my body. (I already had a pair of running shoes that I got last year…which reminds me, I really need to get a new pair.)
Even though I run, I still hesitate to call myself a runner. I don’t feel like I’ve done enough to deserve that title. I run on sidewalks, and I’m still glad for that 5-10 second break I get sometimes when I have to pause at a stoplight. I’ve never run in a race. (In fact, my older sister started running regularly not long after I did, and she’s already signed up for a 6k that’s taking place next month.)
I don’t have anything against running in a formal setting. I guess I’m just not one of those people who care about their time, like, “I can run a mile in 7 minutes” (or whatever a really good running time might be). I think I’ll probably end up participating in some kind of running event at some point. But I’m not in any rush.
The thing is, right now I run because I enjoy it. The reason I’m not formally training, or striving to increase my time or distance, is because I’m having fun. I really don’t have a desire to go outside for long periods of time and run for miles and miles in preparation for a marathon. I want to keep enjoying this activity for as long as I can, so if that means I go running a few days after work for 45 minutes to clear my head, and sometimes on the weekends, and sometimes just whenever, then that’s what I’ll continue to do.
I’ve noticed progress, of course. I can run for longer distances now without stopping than I used to be able to. I saw that I was making it home in a shorter period of time, so I extended my running route to include circling around a park. Sometimes I’ll even go outside with the sole intention of taking a walk, but suddenly I’ll feel like I’m going too slow and I’ll start running instead. I like when that happens.
I’m not the only one who questions how much they have to run, or how dedicated they have to be, to think of themselves as a runner. I think many people would agree that if you only run a mile every month or so, you might not be qualified to say, “I’m a runner.” But what if you never run on a consistent basis, but you have the stamina to go for, say, 10 miles without stopping? Are you a runner then? Or are you just someone who has the ability to run?
Comrade GoGo asks herself these questions, too.
In 2001, I ran 26.2 miles in Chicago at about a 12-mile-per-hour pace. I had trained six long months in New York City for that day in early October.
And still, if you had asked me, I would not have called myself a runner. [...]
I was a runner but I never gave myself credit for any of it. It wasn’t just physical hard work; it was also a major mental and social challenge. [...]
What does it take to be a runner? Well, you have to run, and you have to keep at it. There’s no speed qualifier for that.
Christie says, “Once a runner, always a runner.”
I am a runner even though I’ve only run once in 4 weeks and only a handful of times this entire year. The reason I still consider myself a runner is because ten thousand times per day I think about running. Well, I don’t necessarily think about the actual act of running but I constantly tell myself how idiotic it is of me to not be running. If I added up the hours that I mentally beat myself up for not running, and spent that time actually moving my legs I would of completed at least a few marathons by now.
I think Christie would agree with this quote that I found on Jennward:
“I am a runner because I run. Not because I run fast. Not because I run far. I am a runner because I say I am. And no one can tell me I’m not.” — John Bingham
Bricklyrknitter says, “It took awhile before I called myself a runner, as opposed to someone who runs, and yes I think there is a difference.” She goes on to list some of her reasons for running. One example:
To clear my mind: If you run, bike, swim, or do any kind of exercise, you know what I mean. After a crazy day I’ll come home and look at my wonderful fiance and say “can’t talk, I’m going for a run”. I don’t think he gets it, but he knows to just let me go. And when I come back and those endorphins are kicking, I am like a whole different, happier, person.
(I can identify with the whole clearing-of-the-head thing. That’s why I like to go outside and run pretty soon after I get home from work in the evenings. It’s a great way to clear my mind before I go on to anything else.)
I really liked what Katie had to say about the titles we give ourselves.
I asked my Mom what she had been doing all morning while Dad and I were running. She said, with a smile on her face, “Well, I planted some trees… I’m an arborist. And I baked some bread… I’m a baker…” And Dad and I, because we had been running all morning, we were athletes. After delegating new titles for ourselves for the things we had accomplished that morning, we summarized by saying, “We are amazing.” [...]
I recalled this conversation this morning while at the doctor’s office…After taking my pulse, the nurse asked me, “Are you a runner?” I said “Yes” without hesitation. The nurse said she could tell because my pulse was so low (64)…it had been 82 when I had last visited the doctor in February. Apparently a low pulse is a good thing. It wasn’t until after she left the room that I took a moment to think about her question… Am I a runner? Why yes, as a matter of fact I am… I am a runner… huh… who knew.
Amber’s colleague called her an athlete, but she says it’s still hard for her to think of herself that way.
So at what point does one become an athlete? (Substitute your own term here: runner, swimmer, cyclist, triathlete.) I’ve often heard the argument that the difference between a runner and a jogger is a race entry form. If so, then I’m a runner. And I have, in a way, started thinking of myself as a runner. If the intent is to compete, then that is a recent development, because until 2008, I was not competitive, even in my age group. [...] So I guess if racing with intent to compete makes me a runner, then I am a runner. If the measurement is based on obsession, than I surely am an athlete.
So why don’t I think of myself as an athlete?
Merry Mishaps calls herself a “reluctant marathoner” (as in, she used to be reluctant about running, but now she loves it).
Will I run another marathon?
Maybe.
Sometimes I want to. Other times I remember the pain and all of the weekends we lost to long training runs.
Was it worth it?
Absolutely.
Does anyone else ever wonder if they’re a “real” runner (or swimmer, biker, skiier, mountain climber…)?
19 Comments
YES!
I battle with calling myself both a runner and a dancer. Mainly, because I’m not training for anything specific. I do enjoy the activities and I’m not doing it professionally or participating in enough events that I’m a “regular” at it, if that makes sense?
Maybe I’m too humble, I really don’t know or care; I just know that I like what I like but I don’t need to label myself or broadcast it. :)
I ask myself that every other day when I run – especially when I watch other people stay on the treadmill for an additional 30 minutes while I weight train! I can see the half-marathon goal in front of me (October!) but I honestly don’t think I will call myself a runner until I make it through that race. Without dying. :)
Have you ever heard of “impostor syndrome”? Check this out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Impostor_Syndrome.
Many people (especially women) really shy away from claiming performance-related labels like “runner” or “athlete” or “expert” or “advisor”. The term is mostly used in the career sense, but I think it applies here too.
It’s pretty simple to me (and this is just my take on it–many people may not agree). If you run regularly, you’re by default a runner. If you run with the purpose of competing (with yourself or with others, as an amateur or a professional), you’re an athlete.
That’s funny- I posted about something similar to this a while back because I have that same hesitation to refer to myself as “athletic” and all. Like, how many classes do you need to take to be an athlete? I think its when you just KNOW… no one else can tell you if you are or you aren’t. Personal ability/limitations is a big one.
I have always called myself an “athlete,” but I don’t participate in any competitive sports anymore. I still consider myself to be athletic, though, so I guess…yeah, I’m an athlete. But if I were to stop working out and lose my fitness level, I don’t know if I could hang on to that label…hmm. Interesting to think about.
I can totally relate to this.
I’ve been running for 4 months now, and I just started trainig for a marathon – but I still won’t call myself a runner! And it’s silly because for a “non-runner,” I certainly spend a lot of time running!
I think it’s because we’re afraid that we’re not “good enough” for the label (runner, cook, etc). Maybe we need to give ourselves more credit for what we do.
I call myself a runner. The most I’ve run so far is 10 miles. I didn’t start calling myself a runner until it became something I would do daily, after work, on the weekends, or just when I was bored. Before, it was just a workout. But now, it’s my drug of choice.
You are definitely a runner. You are actually the best kind of runner, in my opinion, because you run because you love running. You should try a 5K race. I never really considered myself a runner until I entered my first 5K, and I loved the atmosphere and camaraderie of the other runners.
Of course you are a runner and only so long as you continue to run consistantly. A race form has nothing to do with it. Not everyone enjoys competing. If you race then you become a competitive runner. I’ve always wondered about the difference between a jogger and a runner. In cycling you have recreational cyclists, enthusiast cyclists and competitive cyclists – all cyclists…just on different levels.
I wish I enjoyed running. This summer I will be away from the gym for over a month, so I should learn to like jogging before then.
Jogging has always seemed to me to connote something less intense and less impassioned than running: something done merely to have fun, and to exercise, rather than something done to train, to make oneself ever better. Beyond that, jogging usually denotes a pace at or slower than 10 minutes per mile. Connotation and denotation both fit in my case. I jog and am a jogger. Perhaps you’re a jogger, too.
I struggled with this about weight training until I competed—-DONT BE ME :)
if you love it. do it. then you are it.
signed,
M., who struggled the SAME WAY with regards to deeming herself a writer. all of this stuff crosses ALL LIFE BOUNDS, huh?
Definitely a runner. And running a race doesn’t have to be about competition. My primary motivation to run races is usually to give myself a goal to prepare for, enjoy the race with my friends (we actually use it as a social activity to catch up with one another), and be inspired by all the other runners in the race. They’re good fun!
I used to run 10km six times a week, back in my crazy days. I didn’t see myself as a runner then, and I still don’t. For some reason my brain thinks that a runner is somebody who runs against others, and like you I have no desire to do that. Running is escapism and me-time!
Z – yea you are a runner. :)
I don’t give it too much thought myself. I just go, ya know?
A few years ago I was selling some jewelry and knitted bags at a sort of craft sale, and I had a man ask me, “Are you an artist?” I said yes but then it got me thinking…am I really an artist? I think that’s one of the most nebulous titles, and one of the hardest to prove. Sometimes I think we focus too much on titles—and why is there such a big difference between “I’m a runner” and “I run” or “I’m an artist” and “I make things”? Hmm.
You are a runner. I don’t have a runner’s build, and I’ve only done a couple 10 mile races and a couple 10Ks and typically don’t train for anything. But I run (mostly short distances) regularly and definitely consider myself a runner.
Thanks for the shout-out!
It took me a while to call myself a runner, too. I’m not sure when it happened, but, it did.
I’m still hesitant to call myself an athlete, though. I’m sure that will come with time, too. Especially if this triathlon thing sticks!
If you do decide to sign up for a 5K, check out the Women’s Distance Festival races — http://mdrrca.org/index.php/2008-wdf-series-schedule — most are in MD, but some in VA. I’ll be at some of them!
my ex-boyfriend (a big runner) claims that anyone who runs is a runner. but despite running several times a week and being just a few days from my 4th half-marathon, i have a hard time describing myself as a runner. i guess i feel like if i label myself as such, there are expectations (that i am afraid i can’t live up to).
it is kinda funny because in most other aspects of my life i am completely confident and proud of my skills and accomplishments…