My Fitness Journey Part 1: Chubby Little Legs to My First 10K

My fitness journey started on a little canal road in the Salt Lake Valley.  My chubby little 7-year-old legs pedaled my pink banana seated bike while I followed my brother on his bike and my dad as he ran along the shoulder of the narrow paved path.  My dad was a diligent daily exerciser and has been for about as long as I can remember.  He would run in occasional 10K races, but often stuck to his 4-mile route.

I am blessed with good genes: good teeth, strong fingernails, and an amazing heart.  Not just to love with, because that's important, but physically, my heart is about as strong as they come.  I remember in junior high (after I grew out of my chubby legs), being one of the first runners to finish the mile in my all-girls PE class.  In high school I remember running an 8-minute mile without ever really trying.  I didn't play sports because my parents decided that dance classes were sufficient, but I wasn't a dancer either.  I'm not sure why I didn't run for the cross-country team or try out for track, but I didn't. I probably thought it was nerdy, so I didn't.  But I was nerdy.... moving on.

The first time I ran more than a couple of miles was in high school with my dad.  One evening, he needed to check off his routine 4-mile run and I tagged along.  I know I slowed him down.  And to be honest, about halfway through I thought I was going to die, but I finished and he supported me the whole way.

Upon graduating high school, my parents got me a gym membership and some personal training sessions.  I was intrigued with my trainer's exercises and programs that she prescribed for me.  Why should I do this lift?  Why should I do it so many times?  I could not believe that she really wanted me to come to the gym at least three times a week and do cardio for a half hour or more.  That was a lot to ask!  I had never worked out regularly before.  How was I supposed to make time for all this now?

Having a personal trainer was actually how I decided to look into studying Exercise Science. Although I jumped around a few different majors, I finally settled into Fitness and Wellness Management. I LOVED my classes.  I learned about weight lifting and cardio training as well as nutrition and other health-related topics.

My first official race was a few years into college when  I ran BYU's Rex Lee Run 5K.  I think I came in around 27 minutes.  Although I was now immersed in learning about the fitness world, if I worked out four times a week I was doing pretty well.  I fell in love with the group fitness cardio kick boxing classes they would have in the indoor track.  Hundreds of girls at 9:00 pm gathered for therapeutic punching and kicking while the enormous speakers blared above us.  With the stresses of college studies and dating, I made these "therapy sessions" top priority.

I eventually got the courage to run in my first 10K.  I trained for the Provo Freedom Run on the 4th of July (which is now a family tradition).  As I increased my mileage and frequency, I began to feel pretty good.  That summer I focused on running nearly every day, at least four or five miles.  However, that proved to be a bad idea.  After the race my knee flared up any time I tried to run more than 45 minutes or so.  I would hit the 5-mile mark and the pain would surge.  I tried a brace, but it did not help much.  I accepted the fact that I wasn't meant to be a distance runner.  And I was okay with that.