Walking faster, further on the inside

You’d think that joining a team or fitness group as a seasoned adult would be much less nerve wracking than it was when you were a kid, but that’s not the case at all. When I showed up last week to join Nike’s Run Hit Wonder training camp, I felt like I had a big “L” on my forehead – that’s “Loser,” for those of you keeping score at home.

All of the runners’ eyes seemed to be focused on me when I entered the pizza joint, which was the meeting place for the 3 mile run/walk. The event was one of many training sessions, leading up to the final race next month.

The stares were obvious – for starters, I was the biggest chick there. With age, I’ve become brutally honest. I know I am a great, fun girl who clicks with people right away, but first impressions don’t paint me as a workout machine. All of the people who were there looked like workout machines. I looked like the girl with the huge boobs, who would love to run but would die from a lack of oxygen to my lungs. That didn’t stop me, though, from dragging my brick house over to the sign-up table.

“What minute-mile group would you like to sign up for? Are you here to run or walk?” the bubbly, 20-something blonde asked me.

“I am here to run in the 8-minute mile group,” my long and lean, Madonna alter ego wanted to answer. Instead I mumbled, “Um, I am here to walk.”

“Good for you!” she loudly exclaimed. “You should be proud of yourself for showing up tonight. Way to go!”

The big “L” on my forehead started flashing in neon lights after her big announcement that the fit people were welcoming the little, big people with open arms.

The twins (which is what I call my boobs) and I fled to the side of my friend, who, although she was one of the evil skinnies, offered a safe, close haven to spill my guts. “I’m the biggest one here, and I didn’t see anyone else sign up as a walker. What if I’m the only one?” I exclaimed with as much spirit as the giddy, welcoming cheerleader at the table.

“You won’t be the only one here – I promise,” she said with a reassuring pat on my back. “There was a lady bigger than you who walked the race last night.”

There’s nothing like a good friend to back up your own brutal honesty. Thank God there was a lady here bigger than me last night, what a relief – now I don’t feel half as self-concious!

I had one eye on two cute guys stretching in the corner, and the other on the escape door. I pondered staying versus going, as my inner child remembered how it felt to get cut from high school sports. Although this wasn’t a competition, I couldn’t help but feel like I was trying out for a team that again seemed just out of my reach. I went from being the one who was always picked first for dodge ball and a standout forward on the basketball team in grade school, to the girl who didn’t get any taller or faster in high school.

Sports at my high school were the be-all – if you weren’t on one of the teams, you were nobody. My great outside shot and power swing got me on the basketball and softball teams, but I seldom played. My coaches said I lacked height and speed and urged me to commit most of my summer to training camps. I vied for Driver’s Ed instead, and my choices got me cut from the teams. Not only did I miss hanging out with my athlete friends, but my absence on the team also dropped me a few steps on the social ladder. My “in friends” started talking less to me in the halls, as it seemed I no longer had as much in common with them. I didn’t grasp until I was on the other side of the fence how much the “in crowd” looked down on the outsiders – the losers who didn’t belong to anything. But when I became one of the others, I realized how much more depth they had on the inside, and how little I shared with those whom I appeared to have so much in common with on the outside.

As I pondered whether I should be at this Nike event, some of “the others” came walking toward me.

“Are you one of us – the walkers?” two women asked.

“Yes,” I proudly answered.

Only three of us walked the course that night. We left first and returned last, but with huge smiles on our faces. It was one tough course, and we did it averaging just less than 15 minute miles. Those girls walked darn fast – so fast that I had to unload that big “L” on my forehead just to keep up.