Why I Run

Why do I run? Those who don’t can’t understand. The pain is

real every day. Is it easier now? Not really—its the same pain I felt

the first day I began, only easier to cover greater distances in

shorter periods of time. The pain is the same, and I understand

it always will be. I dread it, and in a sense I crave it.

Why do I run? To stay in shape, to keep my health, to feel

better—all partial reasons, I suppose. The reason is confirmation

—confirmation that I am in control. Every day I must make a

choice—a choice to experience pain and discomfort in order to

achieve a higher goal or give in to the body’s urging to do

something else more comforting and pleasurable.

Who is in control? My body or me? Every time I run, I

verify to me that I am in control and that I can

be the master of my own destiny. That is ultimately

why I run. I feel guilty when I don’t run—when

the body wins. Running is a test of my strength—not just

physical—but mental. Running is a challenge of my

“will”—of my mind over matter, of me against myself.

Running is a mental conditioning as well as physical.

It’s the therapy of the “will”for me. Each run is success—the

richest and most deeply satisfying. Strangely but

unmistakably tied to self-discipline, self-denial, and

self-control. In a world where I often feel helpless,

victimized, and controlled, running helps me receive feelings

of hope, strength, and conviction that I can make a difference

and I can be responsible for me. Why do I run? I run for

success, success in the ultimate contest.

The contest of me against myself.

. . . This quote used to hang in the high school locker room.  It pretty much sums it up for me.