Opinions vary over what makes a runner successful. Some experts argue on behalf of rigorous training schedules and stringent diets; others maintain that a good runner is the product of purity - no iPods, no Garmin watches, no GU.
I believe I've found the key to becoming a successful runner. Here it is:
Yep, a literal KEY. A tiny little piece of cheap metal. That's all.
See, here's how it works. Before you take off on a run, "secure" your front door key in the inner pocket of your Nike running gloves. Feel apprehensive about putting the only key to your house there, and don't even consider tying it to your shoe laces or tucking it into the back zippered pocket of your running tights. (Also, make sure your husband, wife, significant other, parent, etc... is away at work, a good 25-minute drive away so that a back-up key would be somewhat of nuisance to attain.)
Take off on a route that puts you a good distance from home. For me, this was 3.5 miles. Pause at a corner to adjust headband. In the process of worrying about hair, make sure you drop said Very Important House Key amid the dead leaves, dirt, and cigarette butts lining the road at a fairly popular intersection.
Because you (barely) hear the light tinkling of metal on asphalt, stop abruptly and feel for the key that has now escaped the not-so-secure glove pocket. Panic when you realize it's gone.
Now here's the fun part - crawl around, butt in the air, as you search for your salvation at the intersection in the windy, 35-degree weather. Let loose a string of expletives because
A) You should've listened to your intuition when leaving the house
B) It's flipping cold out, and you've only got on an obnoxious Turkey Trot mockneck
C) You begin to imagine the phone call you'll inevitably be making to husband, wife, SO, parent, etc... in which you ask them to make an hour-plus road trip to let you back into the house
Tear up a little and swear some more as a car of two able-bodied young men pulls up to the light and asks if you need a metal detector before they speed away laughing. Continue to comb the ground like an elderly man at the beach looking for cool, rare sea glass. (Briefly pause to be thankful that you're outside, still able to run, and not relegated to combing beaches for kitschy knick-knacks.)
Allow Extreme Type-A-Ness to kick in as panic overwhelms you and the wind freezes your fingers. After five more minutes of beach combing the intersection, decide to suck it up, run home, and call the husband, wife, SO, parent, etc... And then...
Notice that tiny little key sitting patiently on a leaf on the side of the road.
Fist-pump Jersey Shore-style, let loose a few more (now joyous) expletives, and run awesome, negative splits the whole way home because you're just so darn happy that once you get there, you get to let yourself into the front door and never take a house key for granted again.
And there's the key to creating a successful runner.
p.s. Please hop down or jump over to this post and join me for April Miles Bring May Smiles. I still want to hear what your goal is for April!