“BUT I CAN KEEP GOING!” I had never openly showed anger towards a teacher, especially not the nice P.E. teacher that set me loose on the big field. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. But I didn’t understand why she’d made me stop 5 minutes early that afternoon and felt owed an explanation. She’d explained that I’d been running a long time, and it was a hot day…but all I could think about was the gap between me and the others getting smaller and smaller when I had put so much focus into widening it. Maybe I was a bit obsessive about it, but you know how your emotions get the best of you when you’re locked into the grip of adrenaline combined with heat. I’d been in love with running for a few months at that point, ever since the P.E. teacher announced a new program we were trying called, “Run The Border”. The directions were simple- once a week, we were to run the border of the massive playground field behind our school for the entirety of the P.E. class. We would collect a popsicle stick each time we made a lap. Ten laps got you a bead, which you put on your shoelaces. Whoever had the most laps by the end of the year was the winner.

I felt somehow that my instincts were right when I began that very first lap by passing all of the people I wanted to beat, which was everybody except a few boys who had accepted my entry into the exclusive “boys only” games at recess, and seeing how long I could maintain. As a seven-year old, I had no concept of running being a real sport, much less what a “runner’s high” was, but I got one that day. I pushed through the initial discomfort and transitioned into the sunny, deep euphoria of a good run that held its own against the steaming, sweaty heat that clamps Louisiana around noon and remains until after sundown. I knew I’d found something special, and running was a part of me from there on out. It became a means for me to get energy out before being forced to sit through a math lesson. It became a way for me to be a mover, a seeker, a malcontent, an ambivert, and at times a stubborn trouble maker in a socially acceptable, healthy manner. It became a way to cope with the lows and celebrate the highs.

It eventually led me to Ole Miss, a school which I’d previously sworn I’d never attend. Having spent my entire High School career as a big fish in a small pond, Ole Miss humbled me as I spent the first half of my time there as the slowest runner on the team. I adjusted and with tears, sweat, and leg cramps that bolted me out of deep sleep, I persevered. I embraced delayed gratification with a buoyant optimism that maybe the next workout, the next long run, or the next meet would inevitably make me stronger than the one before. It was a tunnel vision kind of life and I was good at it. I made some interesting friends; deepened my appreciation for Mississippi and all humid, green places; and was exposed to travelling experiences and lessons that I could never have learned in any other way at that time. It solidified my suspicion that I’d remain a runner into old age.

Running has meant a lot of different things to me during different phases of life. The years after graduating college brought on the tension that many people in their early twenties experience: the tension between a restless idealism and a sense of impending doom. This tension was responsible for my need to keep running on a pedestal as a serious meditation rather than a hobby- I needed a challenge and constant reminder that I can endure difficulty. I had no coach or teammates for 5 years after graduating, but I didn’t mind this since, apart from college, it was how I’d always run. I still enjoyed the endorphins. To stay hungry, I decided I would try to qualify for The 2020 Olympic Trials in the Marathon. After some trial and error, I punched my ticket. As I nervously walked to the line that chilly morning in Atlanta, an old man popped his head out of the crowd & and hollered, “You made it this far!”. Misty eyed, I realized he was right, and that that fact alone is why running has remained worth it- it shows you that you can make it to places you didn’t think you were capable of going. And one day, even as running does inevitably become just a hobby for me, it will still symbolize freedom, enjoying the outdoors, adventure, interesting friends, being cognizant of my true self, and going to places I didn’t think I could.

Now that the tension of my twenties has coincidentally landed me in Raleigh, I’m grateful that I can postpone hobby jogging a bit longer, and not as a lone runner, but as a member of RDP. As a teacher, becoming a member of RDP gives me the flexibility I need to juggle my career and the resources I need to continue running seriously- resources I never had running solo. Not to mention, the team members have taken me in as a friend and make practice all the more enjoyable as I know I can count on them not only for an encouraging pace push, but also a laugh. I’m looking forward to continuing to reach for places I didn’t think I could go, alongside the rest of the women of RDP.

~ Tavyn

Finding Something Special