AKA The Finicky Runner

I am what you might call a "finicky" runner. Until I get in the zone, I am absolutely useless if one thing breaks me out of my stride—an undone shoelace, a bug in my face, a headphone falling from my ear. It drives me absolutely nuts, but it was worse when I first started running.

In fact, those little annoyances could actually ruin a run for me when I first started. I would get into my warm-up, ready to kick a run's booty...and then everything seemed to want to annoy me. An ear piece would fall from my ear, so I would fix it. In the process, I pulled its mate from the other ear and had to fix that, but I couldn't get it comfortable. Pandora wouldn't play the songs I was in the mood to listen to. Since I hadn't yet learned to double knot my shoes, they would come undone. The new knot brushed at my shins, making me feel like something was crawling on my ankles.

Add to that, before my body got used to sweating (I used to brag that I didn't sweat!), I would get this painful prickling sensation along my skin. I am not 100% certain that sweating was the cause, but it would not happen unless I was getting to the point of working up a sweat. Thankfully, I don't experience it anymore.

I would get so worked up in the first few minutes of my run that some days I just quit. I turned around in the middle of the street or sidewalk or grassy knoll and marched home in a huff because my body felt out of whack from little tiny things that I had no control over.

That changed one day last summer. It was hot and muggy, even though it had just stopped raining, and I wasn't in the mood to run anyway. Even in my warm-up, I was annoyed. But I had already tied up my laces, slipped into my running shorts, and gotten out the door, so I might as well do this thing they call exercise.

I got less than thirty seconds into my run before my foot caught on a sidewalk that I had run countless times before and would run countless times after. I went sprawling, one hand out to catch me, the other pulled tight to my chest to protect my case-less iPhone. My glasses flew from my face. A car passed by, silent, but I could just imagine the driver, face pulled into a laughing grimace.

Humiliated, I pulled myself from the ground and picked up my glasses. I check my phone. Not a scratch. I looked at my hands, the right with a minor scrape down the side, the left fine and dandy. I looked down at my knees. The left had taken the brunt of the impact and blood had started to well up in the scrape left there. The right was scraped but not nearly as badly. Both were covered in gravel.

I was done. I had so had it with the day.

I turned around and glowered on the way back to my apartment.

From where I had fallen to my apartment was a straight shot, and, as I walked, I calmed. My footsteps became lighter—less like a toddler stomping to get her way—and, suddenly, with no thought to it, I turned down a side street and began to run.

I know that I must have looked like some sort of crazy running fanatic, face focused and blood dripping down from the wound on my knee.

I felt awesome. I was awesome.

Yes, my headphones still annoy me. Yes, the feeling of a shoelace brushing against my ankle sends me into a momentary bug-fighting frenzy. Yes, I have to brush the hair out of my face 400 times before I'm sweaty enough that it just sticks where it lands.

But I don't give up on a run anymore. When I run, I'm reminded that I can do anything that I want regardless of my unathletic past or my neurotic present.

When I run, I run for my future, and that's a lot more important than any slight annoyance.

Questions? Comments? Let me know in the comments below!