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Shunning to Running

Writer: Liz Holzemer
Liz Holzemer
Sep 11
2 min read

Updated: Sep 12

A woman running with a race number, sweat band, tank top, running shorts, and sneakers on. A car that appears to be from the 80s is in the background.

Growing up, I was never too keen on the assumption that as daughters aged, they inevitably take on their mothers’ likenesses. During my last visit to my childhood home in California, before my mother’s passing, I noticed how much our facial and character traits were more alike than unlike. We were both minimalists in the makeup department, wore our hopelessly straight hair parted down the middle, and shared mannerisms that once made me cringe. Cue cackle laughter in quieted venues.


I just never dreamed those shared similarities would also include pumping iron at the gym or what I had long shunned—running. The gym and I didn’t jive, and I regarded jogging in the same light as Joan Rivers: “The first time I see a jogger smiling, I’ll consider it.”


After my younger brother was born, my mom laced up a pair of runners and announced it was time to ditch the maternity drab for definition. She even managed to convince me to attend a step aerobics class with her, but my uncoordinated movements and lack of rhythm proved humiliating. Those oh-so-attractive leg warmers solidified my decision to let mom go it alone from then on out.


Before long, mom was entering 5Ks and 10Ks. As I cheered from the sidelines with a cowbell, I never envisioned my lanky form following in her formidable footsteps. Years later, mom upped the ante by training for triathlons and even a marathon. She wasn’t hung up on a particular pace; she simply wished to prove she could finish the race.

The more she trained and perspired, the more I became inspired.


Now nearly sixty, and having long promised not to take my own health for granted, I’ve returned to the gym and amped up my daily walks with intermittent jogging. Funny how we take on what we once vowed to avoid.


I relish waking up, walking on therapeutic trails before dawn breaks, and putting pen to paper. Awakening anecdotes. Jump-starting sentences. Editing errors.


Who knows? I may eventually set my sights on completing a marathon like mom. We’d be more alike than not then.

 
 
 

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