Why I Run
Well, now that my P90X/Canine program has officially fallen victim to the oppressive heat of summer (yes this happened weeks ago but denial is strong) I have decided to recommit myself to P90X Lean/Running hybrid. This will be my third round of P90X but my first running hybrid. I’d like to get a really good time (under two hours) for my first ½ marathon in October. While it’s true that I’ve completed three full-marathons – the last one was in 2003 – I’ve never broke five hours and I’m returning from a knee injury so yes, this is a challenging goal for me.
Anyone who knows me (and my running love affair) will probably scoff at my next statement. As much as I love running, I absolutely hate the first seven miles or so. I have some of the most undermining inner-dialogue taking place at the beginning of a run and it starts at the very first sign of discomfort: “Why are you doing this to yourself?”, “C’mon, just walk, you know you hate running.”, “You’re never gonna reach your goal so just take this run easy – don’t push yourself.” It’s an endless barrage of negativity that takes place, without fail, on every run until I get to about the seven mile point.
You might ask, “So why do you run?” Because it was my first love – the first thing I felt pride in being good at doing. As a young girl, I was fast; at least over short distances. It was a speed born of necessity. When I wasn’t invited to a classmate’s birthday party, running hard eased the disappointment. When the bullies down the street tried to beat me up, running hard kept me from physical harm. When my grandfather died when I was in high school, running hard was an outlet for my anger. No matter how often I quit running or how long I stayed away from running it was there, waiting for me when I returned.
But, poor lifestyle choices – namely 18 years of chain-smoking – robbed me of my speed and as an adult, my relationship with running changed. If I couldn’t run hard, I reasoned, I’d run long. I became a distance runner out of spite and my affection for running deepened.
Looking back over the recent past, I’ve made most of my major life decisions during or immediately after a long run. Unlike many runners, I don’t hook up to an iPod when I’m running outside. Maybe if I did, it would drown out my inner nay-sayer. But for me, that’s part of the appeal. I have to conquer my my fears, doubts, and past demons in order to run past the point of negativity. Once I break through that purely mental wall, I’m open to the positive forces of nature.
As examples: After my first marathon at age 35, I was filled with such a belief in the power of possibility in my life that I changed career fields and returned to college; over the course of several long runs, I came to the sad conclusion that my 11 year relationship was beyond repair and very unhealthy – that it was time to move on. During long runs I’ve decided to take a leap of faith and give romance another chance, begin work on my masters degree and even to remain committed to my 14-year old foster son, who my husband and I hope to adopt soon.
Sure, I run for my health: to strengthen my abused cardio vascular system, to maintain a healthy weight, to decrease my risk of cancers (my mom had breast cancer) and to have more energy and stamina. But more than that, I run because over the years, running has been my faithful friend; absorbing my anger, drying my tears, sharing my joys, and helping me to find answers to questions I wouldn’t dare to ponder alone.
