I didn’t grow up thinking I’d become a runner—especially not in my late 30s, carrying extra weight, old injuries, and facing the mental struggles that had followed me for years. But one morning, after months of feeling stuck and talking myself out of it, I decided to step outside and just move. Just a quiet run before the world woke up. That was the beginning of something I didn’t yet understand, but it felt like a first step worth taking..
I walked. Then jogged. Then stopped to catch my breath, both physically and emotionally. That first 10 minute run without stopping? It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t honest neither. I was in a state of denial of what I had become and what I was trying to be at the start of this journey. Focusing on the pace.
Running Slowly, Healing Deeply
Today, I am what some call a slow runner. I average 13 to 14 minutes per mile on most of my training runs.
At this pace, I can continue lacing up and avoid injury. At this pace, my 5’11, 250 pound body frame can absorb the impact a bit more graceful and allow me to keep going out, day after day with less injuries.
Here’s what I’ve learned: the pace doesn’t matter when you’re running through pain, through joy, through those beginning months when your body is adapting and growing stronger.
For me, running has been about much more than losing weight or fitness. It’s given me some purpose and peace and a time for me to breathe.
The roads I run don’t judge me. They don’t ask for perfection. They simply ask me to keep showing up.
A Blog for the Ones Who Move Quietly
Beyond Your Pace isn’t just the name of this blog — it’s a reflection of what I believe:
That we all carry stories.
That movement is sacred.
That slow is still forward.
This space is for those of us who have been overlooked. Who don’t fit the mold of a “runner.” Who are healing at our own speed. You might see me write about my early morning runs in the Texas Hill Country on those dark lonely roads, when just my dogs and I are out. Or about the mental battles that sometimes weigh more than the miles.
Why I’m Taking This Step
I’m not writing this blog to show off. But with the hope that there are others like me out there. Who are on this journey of growth, and perseverance, and maybe finding those joyous moments that come with running. Perhaps being able to get that infamous “Flying Feet” race day picture we have yet to attain.
But something happens when I run in the stillness of dawn. I remember that I’m alive. That this moment, this breath, this step matters, even if just to me.
And maybe… just maybe, someone else out there is searching for that reminder too.
If you are starting late, or starting again…
If you feel like your body is too heavy, you’re too slow, or searching for your meaning.
If your mile is slow but your will is strong.
Welcome. You are not alone.
Let’s take the next step — together.
– The Still Runner
(anonymous author, Beyond Your Pace)