This is about how old I was when I started running. 11. I remember feeling less than delighted with the state of my development. And as the youngest of 10 children, with comments about fat, skinny and dieting, I thought a lot about how my body looked. I became obsessed with my derriere. It was too flat. I know, that sounds ridiculous. But my dad’s backside was about as flat as a wall. And mine emulated his. So to me, as a girl with a flat butt, this just wouldn’t do. My sister had a running boyfriend at the time who jokingly said something like, “You know, all runners have great tusches.” The rest is history.
That is why I started running. True story.
Next time you see a kid like I was — you know, in the middle of becoming herself — don’t discourage her from taking up a new hobby. Exploring a sport. But maybe offer some kind word that has more to do with her strength or her great wit or her goal to do something. Maybe then her story will seem a little less bizarre and will make more sense for why she started to run.
May your next run be a good one.