Patience is a Virtue

How to cope with the agony of not running.

- Kim Penstone

Don’t overestimate me: this isn’t an uplifting story about overcoming all odds to achieve my dream. I’m neither a Somalian refugee with God-given talent and man-made poverty, nor a young, barefoot Afrikaans girl with wings on her feet and stars in her eyes. I’m not even an aspiring runner whose dreams were cut short by a horrific accident or an incurable disease.

And I definitely didn’t win the race.

I’m a white, 40-something mom with two young children and a husband. And I stumbled into running – but it wasn’t until I was faced with the prospect of not being able to do it anymore that I discovered it had filled a hole in my soul that I hadn’t known was there.

This is less a story of overcoming the odds than it is of good old-fashioned stubbornness. After I sustained an injury, I ignored professional advice that didn’t agree with my training goals – and as a consequence, prolonged my return to running.

If my parents are reading this, I picture them nodding their heads in sage agreement. My husband, having lived with me through my period of non-running, will be grinding his teeth. But also, quite possibly, thanking his lucky stars that I somehow managed to bleed, sweat and cry myself to the point where I could cross the finish line at the New York City Marathon – without at least one part of my body going on permanent and irreversible strike. You see, two years ago, experts told me I’d never run again.