Running has always been like my best friend. Anytime life threw me curveballs, I would head out for a run and feel the stress melt away with the miles. It has saved me both physically and mentally for over forty years. I knew as I aged my relationship with running would probably have to change, but I thought those changes would all be physical. I had no idea how my mind shifts in regard to running would change.

When I was younger, running was preparing for races, so I ran hills, did long runs and raced every Saturday so I could count that as my speed work. Racing for me was about how fast I could run and doing my best to place on the podium. If there was someone in my age group ahead of me, I would do anything to beat her. A year ago, I felt a shift both mentally and physically.

 I saw my 5k times drop, but I was surprised that being slower didn’t bother me. I realized that somewhere in my quest for medals, I lost my love of racing. When I used to race for speed, I was hyper focused on arriving at the finish line as soon as possible. Now that I am running slower, I can make connections during the race. At a recent race I was running near a man for the first half mile. When we reached the first bridge, he started to walk. I said, “C’mon, run with me.” He started to run and told me his goal was to run to the first bridge. I told him he needed a new goal. We ran the rest of the race together at an easy pace. When we crossed the finish, he said, “I have never run that far! Thank you for pushing me!” Even though I’m not an elite runner, I can still be an encourager, and that has become more important to me than who I can beat.

Physically, running distance has become more difficult, so I adjusted my training by mixing running and walking with quality strength training. Tough races drain my energy more than they used to, so rest is an essential component. While I used to prefer short, fast 5k races, I now am in love with ultra-marathons because endurance is more important than speed.

I thought the physical changes that come with age would discourage me, but I have rediscovered my love for running. All I have to do is train in a way that works for my body. As long as I show up at the start and eventually cross the finish line, I can count my run as a win.

As a younger runner, I compared myself to runners and beat myself up if I felt I should be faster or stronger. My attitude has changed with age and when I race, I am only competing with myself as I try to do the best I can. I am happy and supportive of the runners who do great things instead of beating myself up because I feel like those feats are out of reach.

Each run brings me joy now. I am more grateful for each moment, each new connection with one of the best communities there is. I am joying being creative with my training, and I continue to be inspired by the other runners and their stories. I know my running will continue to evolve, but one thing that will always remain the same is running’s ability to save me.

Have you ever thought something was beyond your reach? You see it as something impossible to achieve and then something shifts, and you begin to see the possibilities. What changes something from impossible to possible? Can you imagine that it is as simple as lifting the limitations you have placed on yourself?

I will always remember a woman we met at a half-marathon. She told us she had only been running for a year. She said she always saw running as something she would never be able to do. Only the super-fit did it, and it was too hard for her. Then, one day, a friend asked her to help her train for a 5k. Have you ever noticed that friends often convince us to try something that might seem like a bad idea at the time? Imagine all the adventures and stories we would miss if we said no because of fear.

The two friends started slowly, and the day came to do the race. When the lady arrived she was surprised to see that there were so many different fitness levels and she instantly noticed how welcoming the running community was. She had a great time and couldn’t wait for the next race. She found the courage to do a 10k and now she was doing a half. She told us that 5ks were a gateway drug. She lifted her limitations and now she could see all the possibilities.

I had a similar experience. I had done several marathons, but I thought that was my limit. A friend asked if I would ever do an ultra. I laughed and told him I thought anything more than 26.2 miles was beyond my reach. Shortly after, a friend told me about a loop ultra near us that her husband did every year. She told me it was a very relaxed atmosphere. It was a 1-mile loop, so I could stop whenever I wanted. I decided to do it but I was slightly terrified because I was certain I wasn’t an ultra-runner. When I arrived the runners were talking about the 100 milers they had done. The races had names like Blood Rock 100, and Coyote Canyon Challenge. I felt out of place, but by the end of the race I had fallen in love with the ultra-community and this distance. I only ran 27 miles at my first race. The man in front of me had done thirty. I said, “Good job.” He replied, “Thank you, but my eyesight is blurry right now. I think I went farther than I should have.” Instead of thinking he was crazy to push himself that far, I found myself thinking I hoped I could someday be so fearless that I would push slightly beyond what I thought were my limits. If you were wondering, he was fine after resting for a bit.

I see the same fearless abandon in some of the runners I meet at ultras. I am a planner who shows up with a container filled with extra clothes and shoes, another with food, and a third with a medical kit. I am in awe of the people who come with nothing but what they are wearing for the day. They jump into the experience without thinking of anything that might go wrong and they use the resources available. Clean up at the end when you are exhausted is much sweeter for them.

I have a friend, Sally, who has that fearless, limitless nature. She wants to enjoy experiences especially when a group of friends are involved. She will sign up for any race if friends ask her. She is a veteran runner who can impart some great wisdom. At my first half, Sally saw that I was going to run it like a 5k, so she grabbed my arm and said, “No!” She saved me from having an unpleasant experience. We asked her to do a 15k with us once and she said, “Sure!” We found out later she had not been training much and had not run more than three miles in the past month. When my friend Raleigh and I were done we ran out to her and ran in with her. I love that picture of us running her in because although she must have felt the lack of training and it had poured for most of the race, you can see the pure joy on her face because she said yes to an adventure instead of giving in to limitations.

Of course, there are times when it might be a better idea to see the limitations. My husband and I were doing a Yeti 11-hour endurance run when we met a man who was doing the Yeti Snakebite 200 the following week. On the way home my husband and I started a conversation that went like this,

“200 miles! I can’t wrap my head around that!”

“I know. That’s crazy talk. I can’t imagine doing that.”

Then there were some quiet moments and the conversation changed slightly.

“Well, the rules say you have to do at least 50 miles a day, so you could do the 50 then rest until the next day.”

“Hmmm. That’s true. 50 miles a day for four days, could you do it?”

“Probably not, but I’m starting to see the possibilities.”

After a few minutes, reality set in that I should be able to run fifty miles even one day before I start trying to do it four days in a row. Who knows though, it might be possible someday.

Another form of limitation is believing you can only train and race by running. I used to think if I walked during a race I had cheated and if I trained without running it wasn’t complete training, but I feel very differently now. When I was injured I was moaning to a friend that I had walked 6 miles, but I wished I could have run it. He said, “Jen, you covered the same distance as someone who ran it. A mile is a mile. Time on your feet is what counts.” I also have learned how much cross-training can help me. Don’t let anything limit you from improving your running and enjoying the experience.

I hope you will lift any limitations you have that hold you back from completely enjoying the experience of running. Throw your fear away jump into new experiences and most importantly, enjoy the journey!

There are many reasons to run including improving your health, feeling stronger, finding peace, and meeting people, but for me, the biggest reason is the joy I find in running. Recently, I have changed my perspective about training and racing because I always want to have fun running.

Part of my change in perspective is due to an injury and aging. My body can no longer take intense training, so I have changed my routine, and I listen to my body more. In some ways, this has made running more fun. Instead of focusing so much on my performance, I’m more relaxed and enjoying the moment.

Sometimes we can get lost in the obsession to keep getting better, and faster, and we lose the magic of a run being just a run instead of a planned training routine.

I was recently at an ultra where I met a woman who was killing it in the race. She was on track to win the six-hour race, she was the owner of a race organization, and she looked incredibly fit. At one point we were both taking a break and no one else was around us. I told her what a great job she was doing, but her reply surprised me. She said, “I wish I didn’t have to train so much. I’m so tired.” She sounded so sad.

I understand the sense of competition. I might tell my friends I’m going to run a race for fun, but the minute I see a woman in my age group I will hurt myself to beat her.

The joy of running comes in many forms. I have watched people who are so excited when they win a medal while others are happy to cross the line. It can be seen with friends supporting each other, it can even be seen in shared misery like the race when it rained, snowed, and hailed. We were laughing because we were sure it couldn’t get worse, but then it hailed.

One of my best examples of joy in the run was at a half-marathon. I was behind a group of eight women who were going to run the whole race together. There was music playing quietly and they were talking and laughing. I asked them if they would adopt me, and I became their new friend Jen. I loved seeing how much fun they were having.

Remember that training is important, but don’t forget to have fun too!