I’m training for a marathon, but am I a runner?

I was in the car with my mom when the topic of Prime Minister Mark Carney running 26 km at the Haliburton Forest Trail Race came up. That same weekend, I also ran 26 km in the Ontario highlands, noting the first changes in fall foliage as I cursed the endless incline of cottage-country roads. Had I been more tapped into the running scene, I could have been right beside him.

I remember my mom commented that it’s not easy to run 26 km, and that his security detail must also be long-distance runners to keep up with him. Right, I think, because he’s a runner.

Am I a runner?

And the question that sticks in my mind is: am I a runner?

I’ve run non-competitively my entire life, sometimes sporadically, through several jobs and life changes; running is always there. I’m in the taper period for my first marathon, this Sunday’s TCS Toronto Waterfront Marathon, and I’m eagerly anticipating toeing the start line in a few days.

Over the last few months, I’ve rearranged my social engagements to accommodate training. I feel like a meme in the way I obsessively talk about my upcoming marathon to friends and family. I’ve been dialled into my nutrition and sleep, and I’ve even cut out alcohol during my taper (no small feat, considering RunTOBeer is one of the running groups I attend).

And even without any of those things, I still put on my sneakers, step outside and run. So why do I struggle to identify as a runner? And why does it matter?

Marathon training for women

When I first decided to run a marathon, I was delighted to learn of the free Women’s Training Program the Toronto Waterfront Marathon offers for beginners and intermediates alike. I had run a few half-marathons, but I knew I’d need more structure and support to train for double the distance, and I was looking for something specifically tailored for women. I didn’t want to download a free program from the web, with no reviews, and where I couldn’t ask questions.

One of my favourite parts of the program is its virtual speaker series, where runners hear from experts on topics such as how the menstrual cycle impacts performance, balancing training with life, fuelling, perimenopause and more.

One of those speakers, former professional volleyball player turned runner Kayla Jeter, really resonated with me. Her advice for when imposter syndrome creeps in was simple but powerful: remind yourself that you are a runner in the lifestyle you live, the goals you set and the way you show up for yourself.

Beyond the physical guidance, the program has supported the mental load of training with little nuggets of inspiration at the right time. I watch another video, this one from Allison Hill, founder of Hill Run Club, on the mental game of distance running. I see the woman on screen repeating “I can, I am, I will, I did.” Maybe there’s something to this, I think.

On one particularly draining 20 km long run, when I didn’t have headphones in and couldn’t be distracted by podcasts or music, I started asking myself, “Why am I doing this?” I let the question hang, and answers started coming to me as I put one foot in front of the other.

My four Cs

Commitment: I want to see what happens if I set a goal and stick to it. Consistency: to train properly, I’ll need to train consistently, which I struggle with. Control: when so much in the world feels out of control, this is something that I have direct control over. And finally, because I thought I should add something that felt a bit more motivational, and I like alliteration, Courage–to try new things, to do something hard and to see what’s possible.

My four Cs tucked away in my mind, I finished my run. A few weeks later, I was out for my first 30 km long run. For weeks, each long run had become my longest run ever. While it felt amazing afterward to have achieved, it was also incredibly daunting.

So there I was, around 27 km–not far away from 30 km, but it seemed endless, as if this run would never be over. Who was I to try and be a marathon runner? Then, an inner voice called out: “Courage!” A few more steps, repeat that word only, don’t focus on anything else.

What came next? What were those words I had come up with? And in the reverse order, they came tumbling out. Control. Relax your shoulders, control your breath; you’re good. Consistency. One step, two steps. One step, two steps. Commitment. I’m doing it. I’m here. It’s happening.

So am I a runner? While the short answer is yes, what I’ve come to realize is that the answer is not the point. I ask the question because I think about identity, and who I am, and who I want to be.

I’m a runner. And this year, in my late 30s, I will join 30,000 other runners as we line up on Yonge Street, and I will run my first marathon.