Impostor

Some days, I feel like a space alien trying to fit in as a regular Earthling. I know the language and can mimic humans’ behaviors, but I can’t quite blend in.

Especially when it comes to running.

Runners are people like Coach Bill, who wins marathons and is a handful of races away from completing his 50th state. Or Coach Vanessa, whose long legs make running 7-minute miles look completely effortless. Or my Rogue teammates who charge up the hills and around the track in 100* sun, dropping paces by minutes per mile and taking huge chunks off race times. Runners don’t stop to walk or interrupt a continuous track workout for a water break. As a lifelong non-athlete who has struggled with self-confidence, weight, and body image forever, I still have trouble calling myself a runner, even after 8+ years. My coaches and teammates are nothing but inclusive and supportive, and I am proud of the improvements I’ve made in my pace and race times over the years. I ran a marathon, after all! But when race shirts are teeny-tiny, or when a half-marathon has a 2:30 time limit (my PR is 2:36), or when I’m suffering and everyone else makes it look easy, or when it takes me six hours and two minutes to finish said marathon, I wonder if maybe I don’t belong in this group of fit, fast people.

I mean, fitness magazines (and my news feed) frequently display inspirational stories of people who picked up running, lost 100 pounds, and can now run a 2-hour half marathon, or something. It’s always someone who overcame some obstacle to become fast/fit/healthy and now sports a fabulous “after” picture. Not knocking those stories–serious props to them for their success–but no matter how hard I train, I’m not going to have a story like that. I work hard, I show up and attempt every workout, I always do more than the minimum number of sets, repeats, or laps, and I suffer through the Texas summer (AKA May through September) but that doesn’t scream “success” in the way most people define it.

So I work on reframing those thoughts, reminding myself how far I’ve come and that Teenage Me would be shocked at how much endurance I’ve built. I mean, Teenage Me relied on a wonky knee to avoid running the mile-and-a-half each semester–probably to hide the fact that I couldn’t actually run 1.5 miles straight through. While I was an active kid and spent every summer day at the pool, including early-morning diving team practice, there’s no way Teenage Me would get up at 5:30 on Saturday mornings to plod through 8-10 miles. She wouldn’t have stuck with a 5- or 6-day a week half-marathon training schedule for seven-plus years, and she sure as hell never would have contemplated running a marathon. Kwitcherbitching and be proud of how far you’ve come.

But then I hear someone–who, by all accounts is doing something positive–talk about their doubts. These are usually strong athletes, fit and thin people, fast runners. I should be reassured, thinking, “I’m not alone in feeling that way.” But more often what comes out is, “What do YOU have to be worried about? YOU look great in just a sports bra. YOU can run a three-hour marathon.” Instead of relating to their message of positivity, I think of all the ways it doesn’t apply to me.

For example, I was listening to the Running Rogue podcast on this topic yesterday. One of the guests was a co-founder of Sportsbra Squad ATX, a summer running group dedicated to supporting each other and proving it doesn’t matter what we look like; we are strong and capable and are allowed to take our shirts off while we get our miles in. They encourage women of all sizes and paces to join, and the whole thing exudes positivity. One of my coaches is another co-founder, and it’s terrific. But then I see pictures from the events and wonder how I’d fit in. These are runners–of course they look great in athletic clothing. But I’m over here in the Thunder Thighs Club. I don’t belong in the Sportsbra Squad. I’m not an athlete.

WHICH IS EXACTLY THE OPPOSITE MESSAGE OF SPORTSBRA SQUAD.

But because I feel like a running impostor, I don’t think the message is directed at me. It’s directed at real runners. Strong athletes who look great but maybe lack self-confidence because we’re constantly bombarded by images of fitness perfection. Not for people who look like me. Or who run as slowly as I do.

I can feel your eyes rolling at this. And I agree, it’s totally the wrong way to look at myself. But even after 40-something years on this planet (and seven years running with Rogue) this is my default mode. Idiotic, right?

But what can I do about that?

Looking for answers to this question reminds me of those “tips for running in the summer” articles written by people in Massachusetts or Oregon. Advice like “don’t run in the heat of the day” has zero practical application in Texas, where July and August daytime temps hover around 100*–it’s all heat of the day–and overnight lows are in the 80s. Same with this issue of self-confidence. Articles say to focus on positive self-talk and don’t compare yourself to others. Okay cool, I’ll tell myself I’m doing an awesome job the next time I’m trailing my teammates by a damn mile.

Um. Clearly I need more ammo to fight this impostor that’s had 40+ years to infiltrate my brain.

All right. Let’s try a more realistic list.

1. Create small successes. As a teacher, I know that when kids are feeling insecure, one way to build confidence is to give them a task I know they can complete. It has to be challenging enough that they get a confidence boost from success, but not too challenging that it risks failure and makes things worse. For myself, that might mean going for a short trail run–since I don’t do that very often, I can just go out with no strings attached and the bar for success is pretty low. I could also take the dog on a run. He stops so much to sniff and pee on things that I get a break, but it’s on his timeline. I’m not stopping because I have to, but because he does.
2. Get out of my comfort zone. This one is a double-edged sword. For example, I’m running a trail 5K on Saturday night–something I’ve never done. Most folks are running the longer distances–there’s a 10K, a 20K, and I think a 50K–so the 5K field is small. Last time I checked there was only one other person in my age group. And hey, first trail 5K = automatic PR! But on the other hand, as a newbie with fewer competitors, I might end up last. The fear of being the final 5K finisher isn’t necessarily enough to overcome physical ability, so with this one there’s a risk.
3. Focus on effort, and compensate for a slower pace by adding more repeats or more miles. For example, on Saturday I felt sluggish, and I hated what I saw on my Garmin. My original goal was 6-8 miles, but because I was going so slowly, I forced myself to turn around at 4.25 miles (for 8.5 total) instead of three or four. It goes back to building some success–focusing on my longer-than-planned mileage rather than beating myself up about my pace.
4. Disconnect Strava from Garmin, or make Strava posts default to “only me.” Complete the workout as best I can without the pressure of what other people might think when they see my run on Strava. I can always change a post’s privacy later so followers can see it if I want.
5. Do non-running things that can impact my running. Now that it’s summer break, I am not on a strict school schedule. I don’t have to wake up at the asscrack of dawn to an alarm clock, and I can pee anytime I want. So drink a lot of water, get adequate sleep, read a book, see a movie with the kid, walk the dog, enjoy the downtime.
6. Attend a Sportsbra Squad run. I’m not sure I can make June’s run because it’s this-coming Sunday morning, and we’re running that nighttime trail race Saturday at a state park at least an hour away. But maybe in July?
7. Complain less. I’ve actually been working on this one for a while. It’s going to be hot, I’m going to struggle, get over it. No one wants to hear a complainer. That’s not to say I won’t bitch about things in my head, but at least outwardly I am trying to focus on shutting down that sneaky hate spiral.
8. Rogues Run Together. Instead of comparing myself to teammates, think of all the ways these people support each other. Open invitations to Taco Tuesdays, summer swimming parties, enouragement during tough workouts. We show up at races we’re not even running to cheer for each other. These people are not my competition. When I’m feeling like I’m not good enough, I need to remind myself that I belong here, no matter my speed. Just look at the new group pics on Rogue’s walls–I’m in probably a dozen of them.

Will these things help me feel like less of an impostor? I don’t know. Some days it all rolls off my back (with the river of sweat) and some days it’s easy to feel sorry for myself.

I need to remember that struggle is not who I am, but something I must go through in order to improve. And stay strong.

 

 

[All images are from Nathan W. Pyle’s Strange Planet comic; the purple Prohibit Anxieties panel is currently my phone wallpaper too. 😀 ]