why

I wish that I could properly explain why I run. It doesn't make any sense why we would engage in such an activity. After all, it hurts, it's exhausting, and there's no real reason for anyone to run anymore. But when I really get to thinking about it why I put myself through such physical torture (appropriately enough the meditation happened during a long hill) I came to a realization. While there are countless other sports out there that require all kinds of technical ability or skill or even specific physical attributes, anyone can run.

But not everyone runs. There is of course the appeal of the elite, the runners that glide over a course, making it look effortless. But the elite are human. They suffer along with the rest of us. While they may be able to go faster, they certainly feel the same pains that we mortals do. Just like there is a shadow chasing many of us down the road, pushing us on beyond the burning muscles and ravaged lungs, every runner knows the feeling of wanting to quit.

Maybe it's some kind of insanity, punishing yourself that way, but there are moments of supreme bliss when you run. If you can get it just right, you can transcend your physical motion and exist completely in your head, absorbed in your thoughts. Your breathing and body move like a machine and for a few blessed moments you don't feel the pain anymore. That's what I run for.

Not to mention there is a feeling of accomplishment that I chose to get up in the morning and run my miles. If I finish nothing else that day, I've at least done something that most people think is beyond their capability.

But I think the more important reason of why I run is to prove to myself that I can. I am my own biggest critic. Out of all the people in my life, I think I am the one with the most doubt about what I am capable of. If I can convince myself on a daily basis that I can by running, then every dry heave, short breath, or tear is absolutely worth it.