Getting your head out of the way when running is hard for any type of runner, but it's a bigger problem for those of us with asthma. Getting your head and your lungs to work as a team is almost impossible. Adding a trainer or instructor to the mix could land you in the hospital. Trust is huge.
Before I realized I had EIA, I tried, and failed, several aerobic classes. I could never keep up. I was immediately tired and about halfway through the class I was spent. The instructor would see me lagging behind and "encourage" me to keep going. I just couldn't do it. My body was so weak from lack of oxygen that I had to stop. Completely embarrassed, I tried as best I could and then made excuses at the end of the class for why I couldn't participate the way the others did. For three or four days after the class I was completely exhausted and wanted to sleep for hours. Eventually I gave up trying, thinking I was just too out of shape to attend an aerobic class.
I've always had the desire to run, but again, could never keep up. I tried, and failed, at running for the better part of twenty years. When running with other people, I stopped to walk early in the run, like, in the first five minutes. They would all say the same thing: are you tired already? Yes. So I stopped running with other people. I ran alone but never had much success going more than two miles. Even two miles was hard.
Once I figured out I had EIA, the real work began both physically and emotionally. I wanted to run; I had the desire, but I felt my lungs were holding me back. What I realized is that my head was holding me back. I immediately began an unhealthy dialogue in my head: I can't run that far. I can't run that fast. I can't climb that hill. I can't do sprints. I can't run a ½ marathon. I can't, I can't I can't. The reason I gave myself? I have asthma, so I can't. It took me many months, if not years, to overcome this.
Runners need trainers to improve. Or at least good advice from reputable places such as Runner's World. But here's the thing, I discounted myself as a runner. I was a runner with a handicap that a trainer or magazine or even a fellow runner didn't understand. I would look at other runners who seemed to excel at their sport and immediately put clarification to their success: they don't have asthma. I needed to trust myself and my body before I could have ears to hear the information that would make me a better runner, with or without asthma.
I had to trust that I wasn't going to pass out on the trail. I had to push myself to my absolute limit before I could trust anyone else to push me to the limit. I had to learn how the asthma affects me on hills, in wind, in 100 degree heat, in rain, during allergy season, and during spin class. I am a member of a running team at church and they are all experienced runners. It's hard for me to take their advice so that I can run faster or longer because…they don't have asthma. I don't trust that my body will be able to do what their body can do.
I've made huge strides in the last four years. I've completed four ½ marathons and more than 35 5K events. My time has improved, my speed has improved, but I still have trust issues. I'm learning to tell myself that I am a runner. Period. And runner's need help if they want to improve. But to put yourself in a vulnerable position, to allow another runner, or an instructor, or a trainer, to tell you what to do and how far to push your body is just downright scary. It's a major trust issue.
