Why I Run

The screech pierced the dark silence of the room, overtaking the fitful sleep that was enveloping me. Groaning, I opened my eyes and stared into the darkness of the room. It wasn’t even daylight yet, so why was I doing this? I quickly picked up the phone and turned off the alarm before it could assault my ears any more than it already had and slowly wriggled my way out from the blankets. Walking into the bathroom I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and fumbled around for my toothbrush. Once again, I questioned my reasons for getting out of bed before sunrise on a Saturday morning. Because my sister asked me to join her. Because I figured it couldn’t be that bad right? Shrugging I worked quickly to get myself together so that I could be dressed and ready by 6AM. I dressed in a sweat wicking blue shirt, black yoga pants and an athletic zip up hoodie. Grabbing my keys and phone I snagged some coffee on my way out the door. The morning was chilly with the early air of a spring morning and the sky looked like dark purple velvet above my head. Standing in the parking lot of my apartment complex I wondered if anyone noticed me standing there, seemingly aimless. Would they ask if I was a creeper waiting to pounce on them at any moment? Or maybe I was a drifter with no place to go. Either way they all knew I must be a bit crazy… Gosh it was way too early for this! A few moments later a silver Toyota Sienna van pulled up in front of me and a petite young woman stepped out of the driver’s seat. “Whoo hoo! You ready for this!” She shouted with enthusiasm and too much gusto for that time of the morning. I stared at my sister and just shook my head. I didn’t get it, why was she so excited to go running this early in the morning? But then, why was I joining her in this madness? I wasn’t so sure it was still out of obligation. About a month prior, my sister sent me a Facebook message and asked if I wanted to join her for a half marathon. I balked at the suggestion at the time. I hardly ran and hated doing it in general, so why would I want to suffer through 13.1 miles of running? My current attempts at the endurance sport was to run for less than a mile, get frustrated that I couldn’t keep going for longer than about 3 minutes, and stop to walk home again. Truly, aren’t you supposed to just be able to run your first time out the door? I was quickly descending into the thought pattern of “I’m not built for running.” And I was so discouraged by my “lack of ability” that I was ready to give it up for good. But family obligation and her enthusiasm spurred me on that morning and I found myself on my way to my first 5K in years (because let’s face it, I wasn’t ready for a half marathon). The beginning of the morning was a sea of people and racing numbers. Mine was affixed to the electric blue of my running shirt by four safety pins in a slightly crooked fashion. I would never be able to properly pin a racing bib correctly. Somehow in wearing that racing bib, I felt like an imposter. Not because I was hesitant about doing the race but because I was hesitant that I had any aptitude for running. Looking around at the various shapes of people that wandered around me, I felt that they were true runners. The ones who would charge ahead at the start line and remind me of the inaptitude of my own physical body. At about 215 pounds and with a decently sized bust size, I felt far from athletic and inferior to the other runners around me. Nevertheless, I joined the hoard of people gathering at the start line. Heart pounding and legs shaking I waited for the gun to go off and the hoard to begin to move. Before I realized it, people in front of me were moving down the steep hill. Slowly I started to shuffle my legs forward, which felt like cinder blocks. They began to loosen up as I made my way down the hill. Once my limbs began to loosen my thoughts began to shift. The wind, the downhill shuffle and the release of my anxiety caused me to feel light, as if I was floating. Suddenly, I felt a sense of freedom. It was as if my body was taking flight and I didn’t want this elation to end. It did end… much sooner than I would have liked... About two minutes in we climbed the first hill which I affectionately dubbed Mt. Everest. The hill seemed to go on forever and I found my legs getting heavy again. Soon I was no longer running but walking. A sense of discouragement began to come over me, but I was determined to continue. Something was already beginning to change inside my head like a small seed growing in new rich soil. I may not finish this race first, but I would finish it regardless. And I continued up and down many hills with that run/walk combination watching runners and power walkers buzz past me. I continued to struggle up and down the darkly paved hills that rolled between houses and brick buildings. At the half marathon turn off I sighed with relief, those people crazy enough to go on for 13 miles would be prolonging their suffering, but I would be ending mine soon and stepping into the after party. I crossed the finish line just behind a power walker. I admired her for the determination and perseverance she exuded during the race. Slowly, watching her and being involved in this race, my mind began to shift further away from my previous prejudices about running and endurance. Standing just beyond the finish line, a heavy medal hanging around my neck, I felt inspired. I looked behind me at the racers coming in to finish with faces full of victory and achievement. I wanted to keep the memory of their faces in my mind. They weren’t doing this to prove something to the other runners around them or to make slower runners feel bad about themselves, they were doing it because they loved it. Running gave them encouragement and drive. I wanted to know what that was like and I wanted to keep the feeling of having conquered and triumphed. I began to admire the strength and power of each athlete who completed the distance. And standing there I realized I wanted to keep running. My sister finished the half marathon much later than expected as she admitted later she struggled with the hills as well. They have caused many a runner heartache on race day. Nevertheless, she crossed the line with the cheering of my voice. She completed something I never thought that I could before that day and I was proud of her. And my admiration for her continued to grow as she and I sat on the lawn and went back over the race. She wasn’t defeated by her struggles in this race but was able to look at it for what it was and be ready to move forward. Her determination continued to spur me on and I thought about her previous bout with lymphoma and how she powered through radiation and chemo 5 or so years before. Nothing stopped her from pursuing her running and that’s what made her a true runner in my mind. She did it for herself and that was all that mattered. Here she was running… running her heart out… She ran because she loved it and nothing else needed to be analyzed. So, there she was, struggling up the last hill to finish and I hugged her at the top as she received her medal. I always looked up to my older sister but now she inspired me to keep moving forward: in life, in running, in everything. I run because I love to conquer the race, the distance, the personal best I run because of my sister, the one I look up to I run because it helps me persevere I run because I love it Will you join me?