By Peter Villa
As I write this, I am sidelined with another injury. Not as bad as previous ones, but serious enough that it has been over a month since I have had a good outdoor run, and at least another month until I am back out there again.
I’m a proud (and founding) member of the Clyde Army. That’s my fun-er nickname for an already “fun” category of male runners who weigh in at over 200 pounds: Clydesdales. I’ve never NOT been in the Clyde Army, at least not in my memory. I ran cross-country back in high school. It’s possible I was just under the official marker back then, but not by much. Compared to the other rail-thin teenage boys, I stood out as one of the thicker members of the field.
The thing about being bigger in size and running, well, it’s a lot of work. Don’t misunderstand me. Running is work for everyone. It’s just that when you’re carrying more weight than the average bear (sorry, I’ll attempt to keep the large mammal comparisons down to a minimum), the added mass means more concussive effect on the lower half of your body. Your feet take it hard, real hard. Your ankles do a ton of extra stabilizing to keep you upright. Your knees… they simply spend their days hating on you and your large abdomen.
It all adds up to being more prone to injury, which is ironic because the prime motivating factors in my running are to be less big and to stay healthy. This thing that I began to rely on for my physical and mental wellbeing began to be the thing that hurt me. In order to do it to the degree that it would help me lose weight, I would open myself up to injury. In order to do it injury free, I had to do it less.
Then there is aging. As the years have ticked by, and the running calendars that contain my marked miles have stacked up, my body has changed in ways that are outside my realm of control. Foods that used to digest easily have suddenly become off limits. Sleep is a must-have early in the night, which results in waking earlier and earlier in the morning. Extra weight that once came off when I would add a fifth day of running to my week now sits firmly in place, daring me to become a general in the Clyde Army.
My relationship to my physical self has never been an easy one, but since training for and completing marathons and even an ultra, I’ve grown to respect my body. It has strength. It has drive. It has fire. It does some things that many people think it cannot do. I love to watch people’s eyes right after they find out I’m a runner. They quickly take in my physical frame and then nod a bit and say things like, “Really?” I take pride in that. They don’t believe that someone who is built like me is a runner. For a long time, I didn’t believe it, either. I just thought I was someone who ran but wasn’t really a runner. With age, though, comes perspective. Of course I am a runner. I was a runner back in high school when I was the last one to come in from the course, and the coach would yell to me, “Pick up the cones, Pete!” I’ve been a runner this whole time.
“It has drive. It has fire. It does some things that many people think it cannot do.”
And I will always be a runner. Running is beyond the physical. Your body doesn’t get you up and out the door an hour before sunrise. Your body doesn’t get you through mile 18. Your body doesn’t want to go onto Strava and record that last run. That’s the part of you that is a runner. A real runner. It’s in your head and in your heart, and, I am starting to believe, in your soul. It’s how you see yourself. It’s how I see myself. I’ll see you out there.
About the Author
Peter is the co-creator and co-host of the How Was Your Run Today? Podcast, which he started in 2015 with the velvety-voiced Bryan Gould. He ran the Boston Marathon in 2015 and 2017 and managed to complete the first Pumpkin Spice Ultra in 2020. He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts.
