Why I Run

I recently had a discussion with a health professional about why I run. She was all about the obvious: The health benefits, the endurance, weight loss, etc. How wonderful that I care so much about my physical health! I didn't have the heart to tell her that all that was secondary. Yes, I enjoy all of those things...it counts even if you don't emphasize it...but my reasons go so much deeper. Actually, I never intended to run at all. It just kind of happened. 

I've walked  for years. I've walked so much that I can walk just about forever. I love walking, especially when it's hiking someplace peaceful and remote, but I felt like I needed to do something more. It started with intervals/hill sprints. I had forgotten how much I liked to run. I used to run all the time when I was a kid, just for the fun of it and to see how fast I could push myself to go. Sometimes I would pretend I was a horse, galloping hell-bent for leather through a field. I loved the wind in my face and my hair blowing out behind me as I pushed myself faster and faster. It was freedom; it was everything. And then I stopped. I had my reasons.

My intervals led me to more running. It felt so good. It became a type of escapism, the only one I had. I don't smoke, do drugs or drink (well, usually), and I so desperately needed something. Life is tough sometimes. Like, really tough. People like to tell me how emotionally guarded I am, and I really do try to be (yes, I know it's not a 'good'). But most people have no idea how miserably I fail at that (I am astounded that my emotional squishy-ness isn't obvious to all and sundry!) Sometimes, existing in the world feels like an act of outrageous vulnerability. Sometime sh** just hurts. No, I'm not always so tough. Ergo, escapism. Running is my out.

When I'm confused, when things feel stuck in my real job, when my (supposedly simple, easy) side-hustle becomes a chaotic, clusterf*** of dysfunction, when my heart hurts, I don't have to just sit there and take it. I can go and I can do. Nothing makes me feel more anxious than helplessness, so it's a relief. I can metaphorically run away while building myself up, making myself stronger. I can focus on breathing, moving. I can feel the wind in my face and become a carefree kid again. I can sweat it out and leave it all on the trail. Yes, running can hurt too, but it doesn't take anything away. It isn't unfair or senseless. There is a point to it, and it builds and strengthens. It adds something positive and uplifting. Even when it sucks (like Thursday, when I got soaked to the bone), it still makes the day a better one.

 

I spend a lot of time living in my head. Sometimes that's fine. I need my imagination to be functional, creative and vivid in order to work on the things I'd like to pursue. Sometimes, it gets away from me and that's less fun. I desperately need the physical outlet that running provides, that groundedness to counteract the mental activity. Being physically tired manages a lot of mental mischief. My busy brain functions best on days that end with me being sweaty, dirty and exhausted. Those days are always the happiest, too.

It love that running is a solitary pursuit. It doesn't require anybody else's support, help or permission. It's mine, and the only thing standing between me and a happy outcome is me. Success is guaranteed if I just keep going, and I know how to do that. I've always HAD to do that, and this time it's for me. I can make myself a promise, and know that I will keep it. Sometimes, just having one sure thing in my life is what gets me through the day.

I know I've put a lot of not-necessarily-traditional reasons out there for doing this particular sport. I've come to accept that my reasons for doing most things are not usual. I'm okay with that. I DO have a few more obvious reasons though. My friends run. I don't mean that they run like me, I mean that they REALLY run, they 'train-for-marathons' run. It would be fun to do 5-Ks with them if I can screw up my courage and deal with the crowd (and hey, T-shirts!) The more I run, the more of a hiking machine I will be, and that's something I really look forward to. And I can, because the only person it depends on to be successful is me. I guess having that control is the bottom line.

 

Disconnect

If you know me at all, you know that I am much more comfortable in the realm of thought than I am with feelings. My ability to think things through and mentally pick things apart and make objective assessments has been a really powerful survival mechanism for me. It's true that sometimes my thoughts get away from me, but usually because of feelings. Ergo my discomfort. Feelings always seem to be something that happen TO me, something I don't have much control over. They range from warm and pleasant, to intense and unstoppable. Sometimes those feelings are a tidal wave that turns my life upside down. But what choice is there, really? I spend time on my computer, using the internet as a buffer, as a way to disconnect. Sometimes the internet is a compassionless and ugly place.

For the last couple of weeks I've felt as though I was walking around with my heart outside of my body. I don't run from my feelings because I don't have any, but because I do. The human suffering in this world doesn't go unnoticed by me, the losses don't go unmourned. Whether those losses are natural and at a distance, whether they are needless and directly effect someone close to me, or whether they are the result of gratuitous and thoughtless violence. There have been a lot of them, and the cracks in my carefully constructed, personal armor are widening and visible. I know what it feels like to suddenly have the rug pulled out from under you with catastrophic consequences for you and your loved ones. I know all too well what loss feels like. Having said that, I would like to take a moment to express gratitude for the security I currently enjoy and the loved ones my life is blessed with. As a friend recently said, "Life can turn on a dime." It's a fact I know all too well.
 
I had occasion to go back home recently. It was for a funeral, but as I embraced my old friends, the people who shaped my childhood, I realized how much I missed them; how much I miss living in the real world, even when it's painful, or chaotic, and even messy. In spite of this realization, I need desperately to retreat and process. The world has been a painful place just lately. But that isn't new. Today I'm supposed to be at the Chase Away 5K. I'm on the planning committee, and it's a cause near and dear to me. I've never missed a year. But I've got nothing left. So I do what I do to heal. I do this, and I walk/run.

Sometimes, It's about running TO something instead of from it. About being in the moment. Sometimes it's my own desire to overthink things that gets in my way, so I run. I allow my thoughts to fall away, and focus on the thud of my footfalls and the rasp of my breath. I revel in the ache of working muscles, and the trickle of sweat at the small of my back. I always take the detour through the woods. Where the path dips over the brook, I speed up; I run down one side and up the other until I feel like my heart is going to burst. And then I stop and I listen. I feel the wind and the sun on my face. I hear the brook and the birds. I am reminded of my own humanity, that we are all flesh and bone, animated by spirit. We are a part of this world and each other. Any harm we do affects it all. But by the same token, any good that we do ripples outward indefinitely. That's the part I need to hang onto. I need that constant reminder, a connection with the gritty and real. I give myself time to watch the squirrels and enjoy the earthy redolence of fallen leaves, and I let it all go.