When the topic of running comes up in a conversation, more often than not I'm presented with a quizzical look and, sometimes, a barrage of questions...
"Why do you like running? Ughh... "
"What made you start running?"
I usually give some generic answer - "Uh, I just started going running one day," or "It's a love-hate thing. I love running and I hate it," or even "It's not really a serious thing for me; I just kind of do it."
With this in mind, it came to me while reading - what else- a Runner's World column from a guy whose dad got him into the sport) that I never really had considered why I run.
So rather than continue to give generic answers and have no real rationale, I figured I'd use today's blog space to flesh out just that - a true answer.
I suppose it all goes back to high school. Soccer became the sport du jour for me, and running was a huge part of being an (average) midfielder. Coach Cagle loved running us through the cross country trail and round the field a few times; additionally, during conditioning, we usually faced "The Hill" at the very end of practice - a steep little ditty that sloped down into "The Flats" where our practice field was. Talk about wanting to barf...
Anywho, though it was hard most days, and I very often found myself leading the back of the pack, I usually enjoyed the runs. The warm-up in the chilly spring weather was always nice, and I knew that, unlike my below-average soccer skills, running didn't take much to be at least average.
Later in college, I found running to not only be a great stress reliever but a good tool for weight loss as well. Freshmen year yielded the dreaded "freshman 15" (and perhaps then some) and running became a way to get rid of and keep off the weight during my sophomore rounds. Running up and down West Michigan had its perks, too - a semi-hilly route and lots of random people to watch.
I got a bit more serious the summer after, taking part in no less than three 5k races with my mom. They were fun, and I felt so accomplished when I was done. Short distances became a thing of the past when I later met a group of girls who ran a seven mile route daily. Running with Julia, Linda, and Candace was fun - we chatted, stopped for water at D&W, and hoofed it up and down the hills of Oakland Drive together.
Somehow, though, I fell off the wagon shortly thereafter. For almost three years, I didn't really run at all. A part-time job, a very demanding unpaid internship, and a looming college graduation got the better of the motivation and I just stopped moving.
It wasn't until 2007 that I got the itch to run again. Again, slightly tipping the scale a few pounds in the wrong direction, I remembered how good running had been to me. Without much training, and a huge Pronto's dinner still lingering in my digestive system, I ran in the Komen 5k with my sister-in-law. We barely finished (somewhere in the mid 30 minute mark) but we were happy we'd finished.
Since then, the road has certainly been rocky. I've been more competitive in the past two years, running in everything from a 5k to a marathon. And though it's been good to me and my health, I have to say that I haven't loved every single minute of it, but I do it anyway.
Yet out of this long diatribe of mostly useless info comes the reason I run. I run because I know running's always there for me. It patiently waits on the sidelines when I want to ignore it, and it encourages me vehemently when I'm ready to go. It challenges me on the days my quads hate me, but it pushes me up every hill and through every tenth of a mile. It never gives up on me even when I want to give up on it.
Personifying running? Sure, it's silly. But it helps just a little bit when I doubt myself or think twice about lacing up the Mizunos.
Today's Point Two: Why do you run? Or, why do you anything that you do? Not that we have to prove anything to ourselves, but it's interesting to sit back and consider the motivations behind what we do.