The situation was hopeless, so I had to turn to club management. As someone with no natural athletic ability, joining a running club was the most extreme move I could make. But I had to do something.
In July, I had atrial fibrillation. This is a medical problem in which the heart beats at the wrong rhythm for a long period of time. I was in the hospital for three days, my heart rate was more than twice its normal rate, and I couldn’t get the strange glow on the monitor out of my head.
An electric shock was required to restore normal rhythm. Chipper’s paramedic at Canterbury Hospital reassured me that this was normal treatment, even though he put me on a mixture of drugs and made me stand on my head “in case my heart stops”. It was given to me.
Thankfully it worked, but it was cumulatively a nightmare and the kind of experience that should have changed me. My cardiologist ignored my despair and told me very casually that the best thing I could do to prevent a recurrence was to get in shape.
As someone who hates the gym, I needed something more. I wanted something that would motivate me and maybe even have fun. And suddenly I found myself eating a healthy diet, not smoking cigarettes or drinking endless coffee, and the runner’s high seemed intriguing.
That put me in the unusual position of standing on a Saturday morning in shorts and sweatshirts among the hundreds of runners who run every week, stretching and wondering how long a 5k actually is. is.
It was too long.
1st week
My first impression of the Cooks River Park Run was that I was shocked by the number of people who showed up. The first week I ran there were close to 200 people. The number of people willing to run in circles at 8am on a Saturday was truly amazing.
A parkrun is a meticulously organized event, planned by an incredible number of volunteers, consisting of four laps around a designated section of the Cooks River path from St. Mary MacKillop Reserve.
One lap is 1.25km. I know this because I counted every corner the first time I ran it. It was a truly frightening experience, one that makes me question the joy of the editors who agreed to this article.
Everything hurt within 2 minutes of starting. My legs were burning, my chest was pounding, and my head was spinning. So I was going to slow down, but the anger of people feeling enough to pass me made me accelerate again.
By the first round, I was done practicing. “Who would do something like this?” I asked myself as I watched people lap at me in disbelief. Where was my high? Where was the breakthrough? I dragged myself through the second lap, threw in the towel, and trudged away, cursing all the runners in front of me.
2nd week
The second week I arrived early enough to know I needed to stretch. I believed that perhaps this would help me maintain a good rhythm and push through the pain.
For four minutes, life was bliss, the sun was shining and I was a runner.
After an awkward few minutes of searching Google for “how to stretch before running” and then searching again on TikTok (what if I’m doing it wrong? I had to see it in action). , I started stretching as prescribed.
Certainly, this will be worth it. We lined up and started running. I started with a nice consistent jog. I thought this was definitely true. This had to be how I enjoyed this. For four minutes, life was bliss, the sun was shining, I was a runner, and so was the start.
We finally got over 250m. I was swollen, I could barely walk, and somehow I felt even more defeated than I had been the first week. As I trudged the rest of the way, my admiration for the runners began to seep into a seething resentment.
3rd week
Realizing that the main problem here was my lack of fitness and motivated by the desire to beat some runners, I started going to the gym. Is this going to change your life?
This time I participated with no expectations at all. I knew I couldn’t keep going like this, but my goal was to last longer than the first two weeks. I alternated between jogging and walking as a way to keep going. At some point, my thoughts started to melt.
All I could think about was my breathing, the pain in my legs, and the sweat dripping down my glasses. By the second lap I was exhausted, and for the first time in a long time, I felt as thoughtless.
Week 4
rain. A fun and beautiful rain. I stood on the balcony and soaked up the sun in the gloomy weather. I went back to bed, feeling zero guilt. You can’t run in the rain, right? It’s too dangerous.
Week 5
This time, the pain started earlier than I can remember. Was that the week I skipped? Was it my newfound anxiety, rooted in the humbling of skinny runners in oversized singlets and shorts? Or those who run while pushing strollers? Or maybe it’s an older participant who moves much faster than it looks? Or the kids running through me like their little lives depended on it?
I had time to think about it, walked most of the track again, and wondered why I never stopped saying running wasn’t for me.
Week 6
It’s raining again. Sydney’s extreme weather came to my rescue once again.
This time I felt guilty. What if we come back next week in worse conditions? What if we can actually run in the rain? Perhaps as a punishment to myself, I stayed up instead of going back to bed.
Week 7
At this point, my running and fitness had not yet reached a state of pain-free euphoria, and I was wondering if I would ever get there. What if I was cursed to walk forever, watching runners pass me, hands on hips, breathing in the clutch, head throbbing?
But then again, my thoughts faded and I was able to focus solely on my movements. I realized that I had forgotten everything about runners and this article.
And after it was over, as I dragged myself to my car once more, I wondered if these thoughtless moments even mattered. What if happiness was actually just an escape from the overwhelming screeching chaos of everyday life? And what if I actually want to go back now?
Week 8
This week I thought about my mother and her heart condition.
I thought about how intergenerational trauma is transmitted through our bodies, and how generational pain in the Lebanese diaspora manifests as a mysterious heart disease.
Perhaps my inner running was rooted in the anxieties passed down to me by generations of people who became increasingly anxious in the face of unimaginable circumstances. I may never understand that anxiety, but I have to learn to live with it and treat it. Perhaps running without thinking, without thinking, gave peace to my rushing brain, and how much it drew me in.
Lebanese immigrants had the fourth highest rate of heart disease compared to other immigrant groups, according to 2021 census data. It was also higher than the average for Australia as a whole.
Perhaps my zeal for euphoria was more a zeal for escape, how much fun it became to know where my pain was and who caused it. This week I walked even further.
Week 9
Last week I found myself rooting for some runners. Their fitness was very impressive and fascinated me. I can’t say that this experience has changed my opinion about running or fitness.
end
After 66 days on the job, I sought professional advice, and to be honest, I could have gotten help sooner. Warren Williams, owner and head coach of the running training group Run Squad, told me I needed to be more patient and less competitive.
He says the “runner’s high” only occurs after 30 minutes and can take months to reach. I coughed out my surprise and realized that most of my previous runs I’d given up after four minutes, and that it would take months to achieve any sense of happiness.
“Consistency is key. If you come in for a week or two and then not the next two weeks, you’re starting from scratch again, especially if you’re a beginner,” he says.
“The worst thing to do is to push yourself too hard from the beginning. You shouldn’t try to keep up with the faster people.
“Ego can get in the way, but you have to stay within your boundaries before you go too far.”
Williams praised my efforts, saying that running is “the most difficult exercise,” and insisted that I return with lower expectations. His warm encouragement and confidence that anyone can run and get healthy felt a far cry from my actual running experience, but he still offered advice on choosing the right shoes and how to stay healthy. He gave me lots of tips that made me want to get back to running, including doing a walk-jog program to help me get back into running. I started.
I haven’t decided yet whether to do it or not, but this experience certainly made me think about my body, how I feel, and what drives me. I’m certainly tempted – perhaps to ease the pain of the moment.
