Share Your Passion: Distribution Coordinator Fauna on Running
The trouble with jogging is that by the time you realize you’re not in shape for it, it’s too far to walk back. – Franklin Jones
My doctor told me that jogging could add years to my life. I think he was right. I feel ten years older already. – Milton Berle
The only reason I would take up jogging is so that I could hear heavy breathing again. – Erma Bombeck
My passion for running grew from my love of breathing. Not the “take a breather” and smell the flowers, or “take a deep breath” before you lose your temper — but actual breathing to survive.
When I first started running, I was so bad at it. The only thing I could think about while running was, “don’t forget to breathe.” I participated in my first race when I was in junior high and, as all adolescents, I was immortal and nothing could stop me. Challenge-shmallenge, I was up for anything, and blissfully unaware how 3.2 miles was about to kick my butt. As I neared the finish line I thought I was dying. I wasn’t able to take one more step, or one more breath, and I was frozen in fear by the lack of oxygen to my maturing brain and the one terrifying thought that my sister was about to inherit my entire cassette tape collection and turn it into Christmas tree tinsel. I had to persevere; push through the pain and cross that line, even if I crawled. After my first running experience, I never wanted to be defeated like that again, at least not when the only competitor I had was my own set of lungs.
So, years went on and I continued running, but kept it more as a neutralizing activity for my bad cookie habit, and never raced again until 2010 when I really got chubby. I realized I needed to really run (like Hostess was about to go bankrupt kind of run), and my passion for breathing sustained my new hobby.
In mid-2011, with my new running momentum in full speed (pun intended), I suffered another setback. With my first half-marathon just seven months away, I broke my tibia, fibula & talus (all the bones in the ankle area, better known as “a hot mess”), requiring seven screws & one metal plate. My recovery required me keep to pressure off my leg for two months, followed by a walking boot for one month, leaving me four months to train. I was slower than molasses during that race, but I succeeded.
The following year, I signed up for 13 challenges in 2013, ending with my second half-marathon in November that year, and my last race at the Long Beach Pride Run in May 2014.
I continue to be terrible at running, and the thought, “if I don’t take this next breath, I won’t take that next step,” repeats itself at all times. But it was this need to focus on just breathing that made me learn running was my therapy, my serenity and regrouping following a mental retreat. Because it was only breathing I could concentrate on, the rest of my mind went silent – I wasn’t thinking in the back of my mind about the laundry I needed to do, the cleaning that had to be done, the groceries that needed to be picked up, the worry that I was over thinking everything – all those unnecessary thoughts typically rushing through my mind were bound and gagged by my need to think only of, “How the **** am I going to finish 13 miles?” Just breathe.
|Written by Fauna Shrago (Tomich is discontinued), who strives to keep the magic of The Bruery beers available to astonish and fascinate consumers worldwide.|
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- • Sr. Dir. of Distribution Jonas on Travel
- • Director of Retail Matt on Bluegrass Music
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- • Meet our Homebruers
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