Legs to Run On

by Jean Marie Moffa
July 1, 2008

I've had a love/hate relationship with my legs since I was a kid. Okay, mostly hate. Thicker and heavier than all the other kids' legs, certainly not shapely, and, with age, showing more and more veins. To this day, one of my most dreaded activities is buying pants - it's a rare pair that fits and flatters my difficult shape - and shorts....wear shorts? I don't think so. My mom had beautiful legs, down to her toes - great feet, high arches, pretty ankles, shapely calves. The legs of an athlete, which she was, in her youth. Having neither the athleticism of youth nor the genetics of good fortune, my legs have always disappointed me, at best, and tormented me, at worst.

I am intrigued even now, looking back on last year, to chart the course of how this perception started to change. It's as if the heavens had a plan, ready to play out, despite me. Everywhere I turned, people I knew were doing it - they were coming out of the woodwork, one after another, sharing their stories and offering me the opportunity to create my own. Some way, somehow, I believe I was meant to join their ranks.

They were runners, each one of them - avid, dedicated, remarkably impressive runners. Chris was running not one or two, but five marathons last year. Watching him finish a couple of them was extraordinary. (If you ever want to witness the hope and wonder of human strength, from its grittiest, most elemental place, stand somewhere along the last mile of a marathon.) Harold runs so much it's difficult to comprehend - a 20-mile weekend run is standard, and 30 rough, muddy miles, on trails and through streams, have become his favorite. Kristi probably started running minutes after she learned to walk. Besides the countless miles she logs each week, she coaches the high school cross country team. Colleen and Jerry qualified for and ran Boston last year - in the cold, driving rain. And Catherine often tells me about how she loves to run the dirt roads by our house.

Last May, when Angelique gave me her copy of Runner's World Magazine, with the cover story "Five Weeks to Your First 5K," it seemed like the time had come. Harold sealed it, when he put an entrance form in my hand for a 5K he was helping to plan. And so, on July 4th, 2007, five weeks after starting my 5K training plan, I ran my first 5K. Petrified at the start, and triumphant at the finish, I did it. I ran the run.

One step after another, I went on to find more ways to use my legs. In September, I completed my first super sprint triathlon. Emerging from the water, I realized that I was doing it - I was using my body to break out of life-long self-limiting notions. Then came my second 5K, this time with a finish line in the Big House - the University of Michigan stadium. Now, that's a finish for a new athlete. And to complete the season, in October, I biked the first day of the Hilly Hundred, southern Indiana's legendary biking event. Reaching the top of Water Tower Hill, and heading into the homestretch, I couldn't hold back the tears. I cycled to the finish that day in awe of the strength I had discovered in my legs, of my body's power and courage.

Even with all these good feelings - and they have been profound and plenty--becoming an athlete in my mid-forties has not been self-evident. So many years of feeling inadequate and unempowered in my body, so many years of hating my legs, and no real blueprint from my youth to follow. But discovering the rewards of living in my legs at this stage of my life has been amazing. And I think I'm getting hooked. With each step, I claim my body for my own. I discover - and rediscover - hope, perseverance, and strength. I learn how to move. I learn how to think. And I learn that using my legs, not measuring them against others', is what it's all about.

This season began with my first 10K. It will be followed by a couple sprint triathlons, another run of the 5K in Ann Arbor, and, if all goes well, my first half-marathon, and not just one, but both days of the Hilly. I hope that with each event, and throughout the training to get there, I will continue to learn trust in my body, knowing that my legs will take me where I need to go, that they are strong, solid and here for the long run.

True confession: a part of me would like to tell you that my story's happy ending is that my legs, with all this activity, are now as slim and trim and lovely as can be. Soon, I know, I will be able to let go of that concern. I'm getting close. Want to know the real happy ending? Finally, in my mid-forties, I'm figuring it out: my legs are not about beauty. They are about so much more. They have a much higher purpose. And oh, how they move me.

Note: For the blossoming athlete in you, check out the following books, which have been indispensable to me, in helping me to redefine my body and my hopes for it:

Slow, Fat Triathlete, by Jayne Williams

Williams will convince you that you do, indeed, have what it takes to do a triathlon. She'll show you how to do it, and how to enjoy yourself in the process. You'll certainly enjoy the read, that's for sure. Her sharp wit makes even the most dubious reader feel at ease, and her book is a font of solid information.

The Non-Runner's Marathon Trainer, by David Whitsett, Forrest Dolgener, and Tanjala Mabon Kole

Whether or not you anticipate running a marathon, you will find here a wealth of information on the psychological aspects of training. And if you do anticipate someday completing a marathon, then you'll also have everything you need to do it - Whitsett and and Dolenger taught a wildly popular marathon class at University of Northern Iowa for years, and this book is the at-home version of their course. Kole was one of their students and an unlikely candidate for success at a marathon. They each contribute to the chapters, from their own perspectives, and the results are remarkably informative and inspiring.