Why I Run

That is such a deceptive title since, right now, I am not running at all. But that is exactly why I wanted to do this post: to remind myself of all of the reasons that I enjoy running while I am being consistent with it. A little motivation, because even though I really enjoy it while I am immersed in it, I really hate getting started again after I have let it slip. So, I guess you could call this my pep talk.

My parents are both extremely athletic. Don't misunderstand me, I mean it: EXTREMELY athletic. While growing up, both of my parents were avid runners, both would regularly train for marathons (that's 26.2 miles) and other races. As the years have passed, their activity level has increased. My dad has participated in the Wasatch 100 a few times. This is an endurance run through the mountains, and as the name suggests, it is 100 miles long. He and my mom have both participated in Lotoja, a bike race that starts in Logan, Utah and ends in Jackson, Wyoming- 205 miles. Yeah, extremely athletic.

Now, back to my running past. Actually, it's pretty non-existent. I have had people use the phrase "it's in your blood." That may be, but I don't think that my blood realizes it. In high school, after both of my older brothers did very well on the cross country team, expectations for me were high too. I participated in choir instead. In fact, I actively avoided becoming involved in running. I wanted to be my own person with my own talents. When asked if I ran, my reply was always "if someone is chasing me."

So, imagine my surprise when, a few years ago, I started running and I liked it. Yes, it was hard, but after I did it for awhile, I really liked it. I looked forward to going in the mornings. I liked the way that my body felt as I got better at it. I felt healthy and fit. I felt confident and independent. Now, I wasn't running very fast (at all) and I wasn't going very far (my longest run, to date, is 5 miles), but I was enjoying it. Weird.

I've let things in the running department slide, but I've got the itch again. Last night, I couldn't fall asleep and my mind turned to the familiar, rhythmic pace that my body would fall into as I ran. I recounted every detail: the feel of my foot hitting the pavement, then pushing off again, the smooth pumping of my arms and the perfect song playing on my MP3 player. It was strange, but that thing that I avoided for so long, that thing I thought would steal my identity, was the thing that I was missing.