Where did you begin? That’s the question that many of us have been asked when it comes to running (or weights, or a particular sport, etc.). It takes a great deal of effort and self-motivation to continually work on ourselves and it’s always interesting to hear what lights that fire within.

As the days and years go by, working out can disappear and return once again, depending on the state of your life, family, and mind. We all had very different answers when posed the question: “How did you start working out/running or (if you’re currently not) how do you plan to begin again?”

Scoot a Doot has been around for quite some time now but we realize that not everyone reading our blog knows all of our history. For those of you who have recently joined us, welcome! For those who have been around awhile but might have forgotten, we wanted to share our “starting out” stories with you. And get your story ready because we’d LOVE to hear from you!

Oh running. There was a time when I didn’t really enjoy running at all. I grew up in Alaska with parents who loved camping and hiking. They bred in me not only a love of nature, but also the need to be active. I played basketball, volleyball, ran track, skied, snowboarded, hiked, biked, and swam. Running just to run wasn’t really on my list of favorite things to do – I would mostly just use it as a means of training for basketball or volleyball or skiing. In fact, if you asked my mom, she’d tell you I probably did more whining about running than actual running for most of my life.

I don’t think I became a real runner until after I graduated from college. I played college basketball, but when that was over I became more sedentary than I had ever been in my entire life. It felt weird. I needed to do something to change it, but not having a two-hour practice to go to every night or teammates to hit the gym with made it hard. So I started running. Not too seriously, but I’d get a few miles in every day. Treadmillin’ it. Then, I signed up for a local five-miler that I’d done a number of times growing up. I felt so good with my finish that I went home and told my mom I wanted to run a half marathon. Of course she told me to go for it.

That was 2012. Now I’ve run three marathons, a handful of half marathons, and too many other races to count. My fitness has evolved, too. Instead of just running, I lift weights, I spin, and I’ve recently started CrossFit (for real, after five years of following the sport and not being able to make it happen). Running is still a part of my workout regimen, I’ve just found a better balance with it – and my body appreciates it. My fitness is always a work in progress, but running with always be foundational in that fitness.

A longtime runner, I never expected to take more than a year off the sport to start my family. But for a variety of reasons, that’s just how life unfolded and I stopped running during my first trimester.

I attempted to prepare to resume running during my maternity, walking regularly while pushing my son in his stroller. It worked well for us and I had grand plans to use our jogging stroller the moment he was six months old.

That milestone fell in the middle of a severe windstorm. Then came a two-foot snow storm. I was also insanely sleep-deprived with a husband who travels internationally, leaving me to parent solo while also working full time.

As time allowed, I ran a few miles here and there in the spring, but nothing stuck.

Once I was getting a good 7-8 hours of sleep a night, I finally resumed a somewhat regular running routine last month, about 18 months after I stopped running.

I started out running a half-mile and then walking for a minute or two for about 20 to 30 minutes. I repeated three times each week, bringing my son along in the jogger each Sunday. As the weeks passed I felt stronger, my walk breaks are shorter and my breathing improves. On weekdays, I run 2-3 miles and one weekend day is reserved for a slow, 3-5 mile jog with my son.

I haven’t worn a watch once because my pace doesn’t matter. I am running to run. My goal is for each run to surpass the previous workout.

I only run about 10 miles a week, mainly because that’s what I have time to take on. It may change – it may not. And that’s OK.

12 years ago my interest in exercise was minimal. I mean, it was a nice idea in theory but I wasn’t too interested in actually doing anything. And it showed. My bad habits were catching up to me and after I had my older son, I knew that I needed to do something to feel good about myself.

For the longest time I checked off the box next to “never run unless something is chasing me.” And it took me quite some time to work my way up to actually running. When my eldest son (12) was just over a year, I heard about a stroller workout class called Stroller Strides that was in a local park.

There’s a saying, “You have to crawl before you walk.” I feel like that was my fitness journey. I slowly started with Stroller Strides, pushing my kiddo in his Graco stroller and then eventually upgraded to a B.O.B. Revolution. I got more involved with Stroller Strides, loving being with other local moms and working out. A few years in, I became a certified instructor and began teaching the classes under the franchise owner.

I picked up other fitness classes along the way including Jazzercise (yes, really!) and yoga. Running had always been a challenge and I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle it so I just continued getting my endorphin high from other forms of exercise. I continued working out through my second pregnancy and was back to Stroller Strides as soon as I was cleared by the doctor.

Running really began for me after my younger son was diagnosed with Autism. Rather than stress eating, I turned to the treadmill. I was inspired by watching Vic run her first full marathon in 2010 and I decided that this was finally going to be my outlet too.

Except every moment of running at the beginning was a struggle for me.

I hated it. HATED. IT. I wore the wrong shoes. I got blisters. I made stupid mistakes. I cried. I signed up for a mud run as my first ever race (read: MISTAKE).

2011 Mud Run

Somewhere along the way, I started hating it less. Dare I even say, I actually liked it? I saw results. I got faster (not fast, but faster). I leaned out more. I signed up for races with friends and met new friends along the way.

2011 Rothman 8k – Philadelphia

I started working out with a trainer to get stronger. I talked other people into running races with me. I never said no to trying something at least once.

And when I doubt myself I repeat “I can and I will” over and over until it becomes “I could and I did”.

For most of my life, I avoided running at all cost. When I was a kid, they told me running could kill me. Thanks to my asthma, I was encouraged NOT to be athletic or to try out for sports. I was always picked last for team games.

For most of my life, I hated running. I hated it because I couldn’t do it, and because it fed my low self-esteem as a kid. After my parents divorced, my dad became a pro body builder and I developed a respect and understanding for the importance of fitness. When I worked in elder care for many years, I learned a very important lesson. You’re only as old as you allow your body and mind to get. My biggest fear is becoming frail so I started taking yoga classes and loved it.

When my friends, the other Chicks, started running, I decided to see if my lungs would play nice and I started running too. Thankfully they do play nice, as long as I don’t try to run fast. Every time I get a new medal, I prove to that wheezing kid inside me that I am stronger. That I can do it. In those moments my motto rings true; I’m little, but fierce.

My first race, the Denver Color Run in 2013, and most Recent, the 2017 Yellowstone Half (and my cute husband)

Lately, I’ve been getting bored with running. I was even considering giving up running and focusing only on yoga. Mostly because I’m really bad at making time for training. But when I look at what’s been going on in my life since February, I feel like there isn’t any way I could have made different choices with my time. Life happens, and this year has been a year of BIG change for me. I’ve had to roll with it.

In the midst of that change, I’ve been spending more time in the mountains where I’m building my house. Coincidentally, it’s inspired my running again. I’ve decided to branch into trail running. I’m not sure if I’ll do a trail race; I may stick to road races, but I’m looking forward to training on the nearby trails. The area is also ideal for snowshoeing and cross country skiing. For the first time ever, I’m looking forward to winter and trying these new sports. My asthma, though much less severe than when I was a kid, is still aggravated by cold weather, but I’m hoping I can overcome that. You never know unless you try!

My new, neighbor, Taylor Mountain. Elevation 9134 ft. Taylor was my maiden name, it’s fate!

That’s how we started (or started again)! We’d love to hear how you began putting one foot in front of the other. Feel free to share in the comments below or, if you’re inspired to write a blog post, please tweet at us so we can read it!