I started running in middle school. I remember the day like it was yesterday. Club day in Jr. High on a hot day in San Jose. I remember walking around the outdoor recess blacktop looking at the various tables and club names. Chess Club, no. Drama Club, hmm maybe. Cross Country.

My interest piqued. What is cross country? My first thought, a club where you take field trips in various locations and areas to learn about different cultures and walks of life. Sounds very interesting. I was always interested in the bigger world out there. I signed up without a second thought, not giving a care in the world to ask about it. I knew it was for me.

The first day of cross country was just as hot as the day I signed up. San Jose, California had a type of dry heat that seemed to get under your skin. No wonder I live in (and love) San Francisco now, it’s a cool and refreshing 60 degrees the majority of the time. You could say I have a special appreciate for Karl the Fog (what us locals loving refer to the seemingly constant fog in San Francisco). Anyway, I remember feeling warm in my t-shirt and jeans as I approached the tall mustached Coach Pappadackis who was beginning to make his announcement to the small crowd of kids I was joining.

“All right! First day of the cross country season! We’re here to work!” As I looked around, I realized my fellow peers were dressed in basketball shorts and tights, hair pulled back, some had sweatbands on. I looked down and saw running shoes on every kid, then I looked at my black Vans. “Mile warm up! Run around the school.” What?

Coach blew his whistle and I was greeted with a flurry of preteens running past me.

What do I do?

Just run! Mama didn’t raise no coward.

I was off before coach p could notice my hesitation. It was hard at first. My chest felt like it was on fire, I was breathing heavily, my legs running at a rhythm they weren’t used to. I told myself to keep going. My fear of bullying back then was high and the last thing I wanted is for these kids to tell everyone I was a quitter. I kept on with one foot after the other.

Once we got back from the mile loop around the school we slowed down to a stop in front of Coach P while he was giving the next instructions. I was tired, sweaty, my vision was blurry, and I felt like I could barely hear Coach P. I felt all of this but something more powerful began to take over and my breathing slowed down, it was this blissful feeling that I felt throughout my whole body. I could feel every muscle, every fiber on, burning, but in a good way. Something in the pain was joyful, peaceful, and safe.

As a kid, you virtually have zero control over your environment, but in that moment I felt the most powerful I ever felt before because I was in control of me, I felt a deep peace within myself that became so prevalent it took me over as I continued the rest of the cross country practice. Coach P had us to drills, more laps around the blacktop and field, and the WORST bleachers. I walked out of that practice feeling more tired than I had ever been before and more alive. A freedom I didn’t know existed.

I loved it. I loved running.

Thus began my lifelong obsession.

Signed SFRunnerBabe