Sometime over the last year, I learned that the first mile I run isn’t real. Not really. Yes, I’m running, but it’s never been an accurate reflection of my run. Usually, it feels harder than I think it should be. Sometimes just in the first ten steps, I’ll detect pain and soreness in my legs and immediately think that maybe I shouldn’t run today. My mind and my body just aren’t quite in sync yet.
But dear readers, it’s never true. After the first mile, I nearly always feel fine. That kink in my hamstring I thought would force me to turn around after a hundred yards is long gone. I know that you can’t run through everything — injury is real, but sometimes pain isn’t. So many times if I keep going it dissipates as my body adjusts.
It’s like I need that first mile to wake my body up, to give it time to remember it knows how to do this and it likes doing this. When I start I don’t always slip into a rhythm easily.
I’ve started reminding myself this. Like this morning. When I started my legs felt heavy and it seemed like I was going slow on the downhill and I’d had a bad night and maybe I should take another rest day and on and on until my brain gently chimes in: “the first mile doesn’t count.”
And by the time I was a half-mile in I was fine. Gliding along the trail. The rest of the five miles were downright enjoyable. I started today on a foul note and came back buzzing with a runner’s high that has turned today into a good one. I was bursting with energy. I even wore jeans instead of my yoga pants uniform. But I wouldn’t have had that if I turned around during that first mile.
This is obviously true in non-runner life too: the hardest part is often getting started and staying started long enough for momentum to build. Remember those bad beginnings don’t predict bad endings.
With Love,
Natalie