How to Start Running: My First Month as a Runner at Thirty

On October 12th, 2024, I embarked on a journey I never thought I’d actually get to, though I’d wanted it for the past decade since I first saw students gliding through my Georgia Southern University campus. That journey was running. And let me be blunt—running sucks. It’s that simple. But here’s the kicker: that’s why it’s great for you, mentally and physically. If you loathe an exercise to the point where the idea of doing it makes you question every life choice, conquering it will make you feel invincible. Here’s a raw, real account of my first month as a new runner. Let’s talk about how to start running from zero, including the highs, the lows, and everything in between.

Written by May C.

1. Running Sucks (And That’s Okay)

Let’s start with the hard truth: running sucks at first. You’re gasping for air, your legs feel like they’re filled with cement, and your mind is a relentless chatterbox trying to convince you to stop. But you know what? That’s why running is incredible. It tests you, challenges you, and makes you fight through discomfort. When you conquer that loathing, when you push through the desire to quit, that’s when you know you’re onto something. And trust me, the feeling when you come out on the other side? Worth every step.

2. The Weather Change: From Scorching to Freezing

I moved from the 120-degree Nevada desert to the 30-degree morning chill of Madison, Wisconsin. Let me tell you—that transition was brutal. My first few runs felt like I was willingly joining an Arctic survival challenge. I learned the hard way about the power of gloves, a gaiter (aka a buff), layers, thermal socks, and fleece-lined leggings. Without them, you might as well be running through a freezer in a swimsuit, the only warmth about you being your on-fire lungs.

That said, I also discovered that the environment you choose for your runs can make or break your motivation. Running through nature, surrounded by trees and fresh air, gets me excited to lace up and go. On the other hand, running through a city feels intimidating and drains my energy because I’m too in my head. Finding a setting that inspires you can make all the difference in sticking with your routine. 

3. The Intimidation of Joining a Running Community

Community makes running better—or so I’ve heard. When I wanted to start running, I spent hours searching for local groups, found some, and then… chickened out. The thought of being the slowest, newest runner is daunting.

Even when the seasoned organizers reassured me with kindness that my fears were normal and promised not to leave me behind, I couldn’t shake off the intimidation. It’s a mental hurdle I’m still working on. But here’s what I’ve learned: those fears? They’re common, and they don’t define your progress. Do what’s best for you, when it’s best for you. 

4. Pace Obsession: The Trap and How to Escape It

A stark source of that community fear? Pace. When I started, I got caught up with pace. The result? Most of my runs lasted between .75 to 1.5 miles before I fizzled out. I was pushing too hard, too soon, all because I was trying to keep up with an imaginary standard. It was a mental battle to let go of that obsession and focus on what truly mattered: consistency. Putting on my shoes, getting out the door, and logging time on my feet. Now, I have a goal to jog-walk a 5K as my regular workout, and once that’s comfortable, I’ll think about my pace again. Lesson learned: slow progress is still progress.

5. The Joy of Daily Refinement

That first day? I loved it so much that I thought, “I have to do this for the rest of my life.” The satisfaction of pushing through pain—pain that I controlled, pain I could conquer—was exhilarating. Each day, no matter how small, I got a little better. It’s a subtle kind of magic, the way your body refines itself with each run. Daily commitment transforms discomfort into achievement, and that feeling becomes addictive.

6. Shifting Perspectives: From Task to Self-Care

At first, running was a task—a grueling, dreaded task. But somewhere in the middle of freezing mornings and sweat-soaked socks, I stopped viewing it as a weight-loss tool or a chore. I started running because it felt good. I did it for me, not for any external goal. And that changed everything. Running is selfish and it should be!

7. Embracing the Suck: It’s Temporary

No matter how much a run sucks, it won’t suck forever. It’s okay to stop, walk, breathe, and recover. The runner’s high isn’t about being a machine; it’s about realizing that your body can endure more than you think. The real reward comes when you push through those tough moments and realize you’re capable of more than you ever imagined. When it sucks, keep going. When it really sucks, walk for a bit…it will hit you that you can start up again and that is the feeling I chase. 

8. Anyone Can Do This

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that running is for anyone. It doesn’t matter if you’re slow, if you walk more than you jog, or if you’re struggling to make it to the next lamppost. It’s about showing up and putting one foot in front of the other. If I can do this—with all my doubts, insecurities, and brutal cold-weather training—so can you.

9. The Importance of the Right Gear

Before I started, I had no idea what equipment was essential (ya girl was convinced I could run in my favorite shoes–Vans). I went to Fleet Feet and got help choosing the two most important pieces of running equipment for a woman: shoes and a bra.

I was scared to ask for help with my knowledge level of…zero. But they were so helpful, and I love the gear I ended up with. The wrong pants for the weather, the wrong shoes for the terrain, or the wrong undergarments for your body can ruin a run. Invest in the right equipment, and don’t be afraid to ask for help—your body will thank you for it.

10. Accountability Matters

Running solo is powerful, but having accountability can make a huge difference. I told two friends (mine happen to be runners, but any bluntly honest friend will do), and they’ve been instrumental in my journey. They ask about my runs, encourage me when I get in my head, and reassure me on “bad” days (spoiler alert: there are no bad days; every running day just looks different). Posting my runs to social media using Strava and Instagram has also been a surprisingly fun way to stay accountable. I’m no influencer, but knowing my friends will see the trees, lake, or birds I spotted on my run makes it feel like a shared experience. It turns every outing into a mini adventure—“What can I find today to share?”

There you have it, ten lessons I learned in my very first month as a runner. Lace up your shoes, brace yourself for that initial suck, and remember: every runner was a beginner once and there is no right or wrong way to begin. Who’s joining for month two?!



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