Story time first: I am a runner. I have run since I was 12; safe to say that I have a passion for it. While many may view running as a waste of time and energy, I see it through a different lens. What I see is a way to stay healthy even though I have paid a significant physical price over the years to sustain my passion. For years, I have run marathons, 1/2 marathons, 10Ks, . . . you get the picture. Without belaboring the point, what readers need to know is that running is a key part of my life . . . but why?
I have paid the price for all that pavement banging: foot surgery, low back issues, intermittent knee pain, torn ankle ligaments have all been part of my life. A sane man may say "back away, boy, and try something else." The response is simple: I have. I bike, I use an elliptical, I ride stationary bikes, and I lift (sometimes)--all activities I enjoy--but running is where my passion lies. When I participate in road races, I see aging runners still hard at it, many of them just kicking my butt, and I walk away admiring the tenacity that they possess. I suppose privately I hope I can still run at an advanced age, but I do quasi-understand that at a point my body will give up and break down completely. I don't want to think about that.
When I run today, I realize I cannot go as fast as I would like. Never a speed demon, I could always compete within my age group; today, it is a rare occasion where that can occur. Given that, however, I love the competition. It would be easy for me to say that I just run, not caring about where I finish. Trust me, I'm lying. I do care; I love the thrill of seeing others running in front of me and the pursuit of them. I love the feeling of going faster as the race progresses; I love the thrill of passing people and gaining spots; I love the feeling of exhaustion when the race is completed, knowing that if I have something left in the tank then I have cheated myself during the run. I love the camaraderie that accompanies the races. In short, I love the hunt.
In truth, what I really love is the isolation of running. As I train, my mind wanders in many different directions, allowing me to organize, to vent, to categorize, and to analyze. Many times I set out to run three miles and end up at six simply because my body is in sync those days. When I'm done, I check my weight, knowing that with the juvenile eating habits I possess (what's wrong with a row of thin Oreos?) that my running has kept me in somewhat of a balance. Running is a passion for me.
On the downside, I get out of bed every morning with achy feet and knees, struggling to straighten up without my lower back hurting. Once the "blood gets pumping," the creakiness subsides, and I'm on my way . . . making sure I walk down steps a bit more carefully so as not to hurt my feet! Many days I say "why?"
The answer is simple: I want to fight Father Time, and I don't want to get overweight (despite my little puff belly that just won't die!). I don't know what is inside me making me abuse myself on the roads. It could be argued, using an ol' cliché, that the "butter dun slid off my biscuits," implying that my sanity level is a bit off center. Whatever the reason, I, and others like me, get out of bed and run; many run at their lunch break while others wait until their day is complete and hit the road. It's a curse, I guess, but I salute those who are willing to make those commitments.
My point? It's quite simple: being energetic does not come naturally to most people, myself included. It requires dedication, encouragement, and personal pride. I suppose most anyone could do it, but that is a big "suppose"; of course, many live with daily physical impairments that prevent any such exercise. However, I suspect that most of us do not exercise because we either don't care to or we are simply too lazy or too tired to make the effort. It all begins with that first step . . . many who think others will laugh at their over-weight efforts are so wrong. When I see someone attempting to exercise, that person immediately grabs my attention and respect because I know how hard it is to do so. Folks, we live in an obese society, but it doesn't have to be that way for everyone. Running, briskly walking, or any another viable exercise of choice--bending our elbows does not count, by the way--can begin whenever we get the courage to do it.
Obviously, I don't know what the future holds as far as my running, but I do know that as long as the body cooperates with my mind, I will be motoring along the roads trying to convince myself that I am still 25!
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