Jake asked me today why I run. I gave him the standard reasons; because I feel good after I run, because I like the increased energy and ability I have when I’ve been running a lot, because my mood isn’t as resilient and optimistic when I don’t run.
Then he asked me to think back to the first time I remember really running.
I had finished the Couch to 5k Program and had run (a slow, steady, controlled pace) two 5ks. I wanted to see if I could drop my time down to under 30 minutes for a 5k that November, so I was starting to pick up the pace on some of my runs.
I remember using some of the songs on my playlist to create random interval workouts for myself; when that song came on, I’d run as fast as I could maintain until the end of it.
Towards the end of this run, going slightly down hill towards the center of town, I remember that song coming on. I was warmed up, I was almost home, there was a slight decline… I flew.
That freedom, that feeling…. Jake said that’s why you run.
There is something beautiful about letting go of fear and pressure and truly running. By running, I mean a pace less than sprinting but more than jogging… that sweet spot where the pace is just hard enough to make you feel free.
That is one reason I run.
I also run for the memories; long runs especially stick in my mind and get better with time. I run to be outside. To experience dawn on an empty road. To watch the sun set on tired legs. To be embraced by the cold and then conquer it so I can feel my sweat even though I see my breath. To become stronger, so that the activities of daily life are less likely to wear me down; no walk is too long, no bag of groceries too heavy. I run to become resilient, to feel resilient. To suffer just enough to become better for pushing through.
I run because every so often, I find that sweet freedom and my heart will pound and my lungs burn and my legs will feel only joy and I will feel like I am flying and I never want to stop.
Why do you run?
I run because I still can. Someday I will be a spectator on the sidelines, wishing I could still get out there. When I have a difficult run and when I want to stop and walk, I think about my much older self, watching and wishing I could still do it and am thankful that day will not be today.
I hear that. I also see a huge discrepancy in the physical abilities and mobility of people in their sixties, seventies and eighties and appreciate that if I remain a life-long runner, I will likely still be walking to the grocery store (like my grandfather does) even once I’m no longer running. That’s a happy thought, even if the idea that I will one day stop running is less happy. Run now so we can walk in our eighties and nineties!