I am not a runner. I never was a runner. In elementary school, I dreaded the Presidential Fitness Test because it meant I had to run a mile in front of the entire class. Every year I held out hope. Maybe this was the year that I would finish alongside my classmates. Maybe I wouldn’t be the last one to cross the finish line. Yet, I was always last place or close to last place.

Despite my struggle with running, I am and always have been an athletic person. I played softball and volleyball in high school and rugby in college. Post college, I play an Irish sport called hurling. Like many athletes, I like a challenge and I am always looking for the next milestone to reach.

When my good friend purposed running a half marathon, I reluctantly agreed. It was a challenge and the athlete inside me wanted to see if I could do it. My friend and I set out to do one thing: finish the run. Our training was about getting the miles in and not worrying about our pace. I told no one that I was running a half marathon. In fact, three days before the race, I texted my dad (who’s my emergency contact) and said:

“Hey. I’m running a half marathon on Saturday with Jen. You’re my emergency contact if I die. If that happens, Mel [my sister] gets all my stuff. Love you.”

Why didn’t I tell anyone about the impending race? I feared that if I didn’t finish, then everyone would know that I had failed what I had set out to do. Looking back, just signing up and committing to train for a half marathon was in itself, a victory for me. We did finish that half marathon (goal achieved!) and I didn’t die (woo hoo!) It was quite an accomplishment for a non-runner.

Following the half marathon, I signed up for six 10k runs as a part of a winter run series. One 10k run per month, from October to March — in Wisconsin. If a runner completed all six 10k runs, he/she got a large medal. It sounded like a good idea, or at least I convinced myself it would be okay. All I had to do was finish. Just finish.

When the New Year’s Eve 10k (race 4 of 6) rolled around, it was -9 degrees and the water handed out on the course was frozen. Maybe not the best idea. At race #5, the course officials pushed back the start times of the 5k and the 10k runs to accommodate for the cold weather. I missed this update and didn’t realize my error until I was crossing the finish line of the 5k race. 12 minutes later, with a new bib and chip, I was at the start line for the 10k race. I had set out to finish six 10k runs, and I was going to do that. No matter what.

I completed all six 10k runs and received the finisher medals. At all six runs, I was always at the back of the pack. But I finished. I did what I had set out to do.

For the next year, I didn’t sign up for any runs. I was working full-time, in graduate school part-time and had hurling practices twice a week. My plate was full. Running was not a priority for me because I wasn’t a runner. I was a “wogger” (a walk-jogger) at best.

Then a running group was started at work. I work at Marquette University and the university president is an avid runner, like completed 28-marathons-or-so avid runner. The Running with the President group began as a twice-weekly casual run, opened to all students, faculty and staff. It was an inclusive group that encouraged all to attend, even non-runners like me. For awhile, I held out. I knew I would be the slowest one in the group and I didn’t want to “hold anyone back.” These group members were runners: half my size and twice as fast. I wouldn’t fit in or keep up. It would be the Presidential Fitness Test, all over again.

To clarify, as an adult, I am not embarrassed that I am a slow runner. Running is not something that comes naturally to me — and that’s okay. We can’t all be fast runners. My hesitation to join the running group stemmed from the fact that I literally couldn’t imagine myself in a running group. I most certainly would be the odd (wo)man out because of my slow pace. What would I, a self-proclaimed non-runner, do in a running group? It sounded absurd.

After some encouragement from a colleague, I attended an informational meeting about the running group. The group’s plan was to train for a half marathon in spring and then, for those who wanted, continue on to train for a marathon in fall. The convincing factor for me was when a woman stood up and said she was a slow runner, so anyone who wanted to train with her, was welcome. Hearing someone admit to a room full of people that she wasn’t fast, gave me the confidence to join. That woman would later become one of my weekly running partners. We dubbed ourselves “Team Slowpoke” because of our common speed.

4 months later we ran a half marathon. This race felt different to me. I was proud to not only finish the run, but to be a part of the Marquette team when I did it. I was becoming a part of a community. The Running with the President club gave me a sense of belonging that I hadn’t expected.