Streak On

A little into a month after I started working at Runner’s World, I ran (ha!) into a new coworker at a local 5K. We chatted for a bit before the race, and giggled about how it was funny (or not really) to run into each other at a running race considering where we both work. Then he said to me, “hey, it’s not a bad Kool-Aid to drink.”

True. I was ‘drinking the Kool-Aid’ before my coworker caught me in a racing bib. Ok, not drinking, more like sipping, I’d say. I had been an avid sipper until I started working with a team of folks that keep multiple pair of running shoes lined up under their desks for lunch runs. But now, now I’m on the nothin’-but-Kool-Aid diet.

I thought my coworker’s holiday run streak idea was fun—until she invited/challenged staffers to do it too. Today is my 12th day of running at least a mile every day, and strangely, I’m cool with it.


Sure, the run the day after my Thanksgiving 10K was painful and wobbly, my legs numbly ran a mile after a butt busting spin class another day, I felt pathetic running in the rain in Ohio and I’d totally skip my run tonight on account of forgetting to pack a workout top, but now I HAVE TO go home and get it and THEN go to the gym, but I’m cool with it.


The challenge for anyone streaking (hehe) isn’t necessarily the distance, it’s the frequency—honestly, not every day is perfect for a run. Like the day I woke up in a Red Roof Inn in Toledo, Ohio with a day of driving ahead of me. The situation was not conducive to a run, nor was the cold rain that day. So, I improvised, and ran seven times around the covered sidewalk of the hotel, motivated by the desire to not receive too many strange looks. Needless to say, I only ran my minimum mile that day.

Yesterday my roommate was having the same kind of too-busy-for-a-run day. I was in the kitchen around 10pm heating up some hot chocolate for snoozy B when Nicole and her boyfriend came home from a busy day out. She’s a newbie runner who eagerly joined the streak, and she’s been rocking it. Except for last night. “Did you run today?” I asked her over the microwave hum. She looked away, “I broke the streak…”

I will not let the streak die on my watch, no sir.

The day was not done—no streak was broken; so I encouraged her to lace up for a quick night run through town. Another mile wouldn’t kill me, especially for the salvage of a streak. We ran a speedy, cool mile and gossiped while our respected men lounged in our cozy third floor apartment. It was one of my favorite runs ever.

Twelve days down, 27 to go. STREAK ON!

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