2020 has been a year of losses and lockdowns, of lost life, lost time, and lost sense of time. It is also the year in which I discovered I could run. Running has been one of the few activities that made the year bearable, and has helped me mark time, in more ways than one.
I could never run, not even as a kid. The mile run in high school gym was torture, and most times I had to walk some part of it. I had always assumed—and no one ever really tried to dissuade me—that there was something physically wrong with me, and that I simply could not do it. And I hated the stickiness, the red-facedness, the huffing, puffing indignity of it all. I had always preferred swimming, despite never having had great technique. I had been growing more fit over the years, getting into hiking in the Sandias, canoe-tripping in Algonquin Park, and especially indoor rock-climbing. At peak performance, I was sending 5.10c routes, and even pieced together my first 5.10d’s. But cardio of any kind was still hard, and running was out of the question.
Then in late December 2019, I had just returned from a solo trip to New Mexico, and mentioned how good it was to be on the trails again, and that if I ever lived there again, I might even get into trail running. Catching me at my word, Hanno suggested we go down to the lake and try running on the boardwalk. This was not the first time he had suggested it, but this time I was just relaxed enough, open enough to agree. With much encouragement (you’re doing well; 300m to go; 200m; giant red chair in sight), I managed a slow 2.8k jog—but I was dying. It took some 7-8 runs for me to see the activity as anything but actively painful, but once I saw that small bit of improvement, I was hooked. A run-tracking app helped, although at times I got discouraged at not seeing more progress. Proper gear helped: the right shoes in the right size; colourful shirts (some for cooling, some for insulation); fun socks. Winter helped: the stickiness factor was less of an issue, but weather was also, mercifully, mild enough to keep at it regularly. My iPhone photos and messages were full of running selfies. We registered for a 5k race in mid-March—a first for me. I set myself the ambitious goal of finishing in 30 minutes or under. Then the losses and lockdowns happened.
Running became my one major physical activity, and before long I was running 4-5k several times a week. There was no question of motivation: running became a necessity, one of the few things that got me out of the house and out of my head, made me feel vital and present. Summer was plateau time, but I kept going, even when the coolest parts of the day and week still felt like running through soup. Down to the lake and back; laps around the block; a few short sprints here and there. Suddenly, in fall, I was breathing easier, running longer, and had shaved a minute off each kilometre. 5k, 5.7k, 6.02k, 6.56k. Portaging on our fall canoe trips was easier than I had remembered. Hanno said that I was ready for a 10k; I was skeptical.
Then came the “Harvard Moves” initiative in mid-November. It was supposed to be 5k, any way, but 5k was normal for me by then. Together with Hanno, I completed my first 10k run on a crisp late afternoon on November 14, at Tommy Thompson Park. 01:00:44. It was hard; it was elating. I also sensed that I was capable of more: my pace on this first attempt was on the conservative side. Two weeks later, I laid it all out there and beat my initial time, coming in at 00:59:40. We compared it to the results of the 10k race from the 2019 Toronto Marathon: respectable.
It is late December again, and I am still running, scouring the weather forecast for the warmer, calmer times of the day and week, ideally with no snow or ice on the ground. There is a longer, more complicated narrative here about what running has meant to me this year and has come to mean to me in the greater context of my life. Losses and lockdowns; running on empty; running away. Another time, perhaps. For today, I close out 2020 with at least this sense of accomplishment: of having gone from zero to 10k in less than a year. As to the future, perhaps a half-marathon?
Yulia Ryzhik 
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