Running has always been something I’ve just done. Part of my identity, I guess. It’s part of me.
So, when I was asked, “why do you run races? I mean, I understand running and exercise, but I just don’t get the whole race thing. I don’t get why you’d want to go hurt your body like that.”
My first reaction was to agree. Of course, that’s so true. Why do I run? I’ve had a labral tear in my hip (including surgery), numerous steroid injections, seen orthopedic doctors about everything from my hips down to my metatarsals (the little bitty bones at the bottom of your feet). X-Rays, MRIs, physical therapy. Even, working one-on-one with coaches to perfect my running technique. Not to mention the countless dollars spent on running shoes, specialized orthotics, pain meds, the gear. …And all for what?
To put on my running shoes is freedom. It’s a Band-Aid, an escape. It’s silly now, but in 2002 I thought I was dating the love of my life. Of course, at 19 years old, there couldn’t be anyone else in my future, right?! Well, when I found him with another girl in college, my heart shattered. I had been having the time of my life in college and everything in my world just came to a halt. Life was out of my control. Nothing I could do would make him my boyfriend again. So, I ran. And, I ran some more and it felt good. I ran before the sun came up and it helped me face each day. I ran and felt the sweat and strength in my legs. Sure, it hurt a little, but it felt better than the pain I was feeling in the rest of my body. I kept running. And, I’d add on a little more each day. Between the most difficult journalism school in the country and paying my way through out-state-school with a minimum of 25 hours selling jewelry, I ran. And, I felt fulfilled. I set a goal and ran some more. It made me better at my job and better in school.
A swimmer by nature, I did my first triathlon and won my age group. I signed up for a 10K and placed 2nd overall. Ran my first 26.2 and qualified for Boston… and did it again, and again. Battled through a 50K trail race through the foothills of the Appalachians and earned 5th place female overall. Two weeks later, earned 3rd overall in a brutal hill climb 10K trail race. It was about the accomplishment inside my soul. My dad always told me not to do anything “half-assed,” so why would I just run and not at least be better than average?
I can work hard at my job and my career, put 110% into all my friendships and relationships, and lead a healthy, good life. But there are no guarantees, and no control of what will happen. Friends will let me down, lovers will go, and material things and vacations can’t make you happy for long. But, hard work, fulfillment, and the feeling of alive…that can’t be taken away. I control that. And, thank our faithful God for the gift of allowing me to wake up early, lace up my running shoes, force a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and bananas into my system, and join a bunch of crazy people on a chilly Saturday morning to run more than 10 miles…and cross a finish line. Because the adrenaline of finishing something you love just feels good.
So to answer the question of why I race? Honestly, there isn’t one straight answer, other than flat out: I love it. It feels good, and it makes me better. With each long run, I am stronger, and more confident.
