call of the open pavement
i am a runner.
i’ve been running since i was 14, and my friend nathaly and i just decided we’d start jogging down furnace brook parkway on saturday mornings during our summer vacation. I have no idea why we started that, and I certainly had no idea that i was embarking on something that would, over the next 20 years, consume me, frustrate me, addict me, enrage me, pain me and sustain me.
I have spent probably whole years of my life running. I’ve trained for 4 and a half marathons, rehabbed my knee twice from scratch, worn through countless of pairs of shoes, and sworn it off at least a dozen times. i’ve run in the dark, i’ve run at 4:00 in the morning, i’ve run in snow, i’ve run in 100 degrees fahrenheit, i’ve run when i was sick, and i’ve run til i’ve been ill.
there aren’t many things i would say i’m good at, but running is one of them. it’s one of the few constants in my life, the only thing i keep coming back to in spite of pain, sorrow, and mind-numbing boredom. because when it’s good, it feels really fucking good. like you’re gliding and you could just keep going forever. like everything is just completely fluid motion and your muscles and lungs and heart are all working together in synchronicity and it’s effortless cycling of energy that you draw from the air and the ground and it just flows through you like blood in your veins, and you could go faster and faster and never stop. like you are a conduit for turning oxygen into motion, and it’s the most natural thing in the world.
of course, it takes a helluva a lot of huffing and puffing to get to that point. there are days when it’s cold and your legs feel like lead and you immediately get a stitch in your side and it takes feats of supreme effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other. and you get sweaty and bored and chafed. and you have to go when it’s cold or dark or you have cramps or a hangover. there are plenty of days when i still have to fool myself into going running. when i promise myself that if i just put my running shoes on, i don’t *have to* go. of course, once they’re on, i feel too guilty not to go. mental trickery. really, that’s what most of it boils down to. stubbornness and mind games.
but when you can run 10, 15, 20 miles… you feel invincible. you feel strong and healthy and *pure*. like you’ve sweated out every toxin, and all your pores are open, and each individual cell in your body is alive. it’s an amazing feeling, and it’s worth every blister or runny nose or stomach ache. it’s easy to forget – i haven’t run in about six months (swore it off again) but going for a short run this morning, with the tunes pumping through my ipod and my rhythm in my stride, it all came flooding back to me, just why i do this.
in spite of all the ups and downs, or perhaps because of them – i’m a runner.
running
Comment by Tillerman
7.03.2006 @ 20:18 pm
You said it much better than I could