"You seriously call that running? I can walk faster than that." The voice came out of nowhere, I hadn't even seen the-down-on his-luck looking guy sitting on the bench overlooking the track. He was a bit set back, hoodie on, drinking something from a paper cup. I continued running, kind of chuckled and thought to myself, was I just heckled? There were other people on the track as well, but each was in their own zone and no one else seemed to notice. As I came up to the bend again, I wasn't sure what to expect, was it a fluke? But as I rounded the turn I hear "why don't you just stop? you can not call yourself a runner when you look like that". Yep, it was happening, I was being heckled, but I didn't chuckle this time. I felt anger rise up inside and I thought of all the witty, unkind remarks I could throw his way my next time around. Not a runner, he has no idea! I steeled myself as I hit the turn again and sure enough, "you look like you're in pain. do yourself a favor and just stop. stop already." I kept my comments to myself but decided I had enough. His voice didn't carry kindness, it was mean-spirited and directed at me. I ran the last lap and exited out the opposite side of the track. I made my way through the park, and decided to head home. Shortly as the park was behind me I stopped and literally broke down in tears, hands on my knees, sobbing like a baby.
On any other day I might have had a good laugh, may have even egged him on a bit with a funny reply or smile and wave but today was not that day. You see, not even half a mile into my run, I had already titled it UGH. I wasn't feeling it. My legs felt heavy, and my spirit was anything but light. I felt discouraged in every sense of the term. A half mile in and I decided five miles would be enough, I didn't need to go six. A half mile in I was ready to quit - tired of running the same streets, tired of running all together.
When I reached the track around mile three I was ready to just zone out. Run in circles, appreciate the different surface under my feet. I admired the colors of the leaves against the red-ish track. Then The Heckler made himself heard.
Through my tears I had a sad realization. You see, that heckler said out loud everything that I had been feeling the previous miles. I didn't feel fast. I didn't feel like I looked like a runner. I was in pain and I'm sure it showed. He spoke all my negative self-talk and it hurt. It hurt my heart and as my tears fell all I could do was pray. The enemy wasn't sitting on the bench, it had taken up a cozy spot in my head.
I wiped my face, blew a couple snot-rockets and chose a route home that included a tough hill. I cheered myself up it, pushed harder than I had all morning and complimented myself on my strength and determination. As I huffed and puffed at the top, I said to myself, or anyone else that was listening, you are not welcome here Heckler. Move along, because you can bet your ass I can run faster than you can walk.
On any other day I might have had a good laugh, may have even egged him on a bit with a funny reply or smile and wave but today was not that day. You see, not even half a mile into my run, I had already titled it UGH. I wasn't feeling it. My legs felt heavy, and my spirit was anything but light. I felt discouraged in every sense of the term. A half mile in and I decided five miles would be enough, I didn't need to go six. A half mile in I was ready to quit - tired of running the same streets, tired of running all together.
When I reached the track around mile three I was ready to just zone out. Run in circles, appreciate the different surface under my feet. I admired the colors of the leaves against the red-ish track. Then The Heckler made himself heard.
Through my tears I had a sad realization. You see, that heckler said out loud everything that I had been feeling the previous miles. I didn't feel fast. I didn't feel like I looked like a runner. I was in pain and I'm sure it showed. He spoke all my negative self-talk and it hurt. It hurt my heart and as my tears fell all I could do was pray. The enemy wasn't sitting on the bench, it had taken up a cozy spot in my head.
I wiped my face, blew a couple snot-rockets and chose a route home that included a tough hill. I cheered myself up it, pushed harder than I had all morning and complimented myself on my strength and determination. As I huffed and puffed at the top, I said to myself, or anyone else that was listening, you are not welcome here Heckler. Move along, because you can bet your ass I can run faster than you can walk.