For the majority of my life, the activity of running never made me feel anything but pure dread and exhaustion. I would only run when we had to do the mile in PE every week at school, and even that was too much. I wasn’t fast, either; I would walk constantly and probably finish in about ten minutes. I didn’t know anyone who really enjoyed running either, except for my dad, who was a distance runner throughout high school and college. I never understood why anyone would run for fun.
So if you were to tell me five years ago that I would end up being a cross country and track athlete, there is no way in hell I would believe you.
Now I look at running as my saving grace. I initially joined track and cross country to make friends, but I had no idea that I would end up in a solid relationship with distance running. I’ve had people ask me the same question posed by my past self: how could I possible enjoy running? Over time, I realized that it’s difficult to understand unless you are a distance runner, because it’s the feeling that it gives you that makes it so enjoyable.
When I’m on a long run, everything in the world gets kind of quiet. It’s just me and the road I’m running on for miles and miles. Sure, I’m absolutely exhausted by the end. But ironically, I also feel a lot more relaxed, and a lot more confident. Like the world is mine for the taking.
Additionally, it’s scientifically proven that running makes you happier. My inability to let go of running after high school is in part because of the withdrawals I know I’ll face. I’ve had to take time off of running before due to injuries, and even during those brief periods the decrease in happiness I felt was intense. This is true for all distance runners, because your body isn’t producing as many endorphins as it usually does. I guess what I’m trying to say is that running is sort of like cocaine.
On a different note, running also taught me how to perform beyond my pain threshold, because that’s all it truly is. The fact is that running is all mental. You can’t get better unless you push your boundaries each time. It’s never not going to hurt like hell, and it will never get easier; you just get used to it because you’re stronger than you were last time.
The way I see it, there is something about distance running that separates it from other sports. Perhaps it’s because there is no equipment, no balls or goals. It’s just you and the terrain you’re running on. It’s keeping your form; extend your legs, land on the balls of your feet, drive your elbows back, and breathe through your nose. It’s the fiery determination to keep going that burns past any pain you might be feeling. Its giving every last ounce of yourself in order to run the best you possibly can, to finish strong.
The emotions that I have come to associate with running are strange but extraordinary. There have been days when I would be running and I would ask: “Why am I doing this to myself? This sucks.” But those never compare to all the days when I felt like I was flying. I remember one practice when I had to run 12 miles, and I felt completely free the entire time. I would get so apprehensive when I had to pause at a stoplight, because I just wanted to keep going.
There have been times when running has made me look on the brighter side of things. For example, during my first track race of my senior year, I was going through some personal problems that were truly bringing me down. It was a sleepy Saturday morning, the day after a late night at the Sadie Hawkins dance. I was running the mile, the race I cared most about. While I was running, I suddenly forgot about all the problems I was facing, and I just focused on myself. All I heard was my team cheering me on, and the sound of my spikes scraping against the red track. I remember feeling like a bird soaring through the sky, except the track was my sky and my wings were my feet. It had been so long since my last track race, it felt like I was catching up with an old friend. I sprinted the last 100 meters in what felt like an agile blur, crossing the finish line straight into my coach's arms. I medaled second place that day, and I beat my personal record. I felt overwhelmed with the happiness my race had given me, and I couldn’t help but feel ecstatic for the rest of the day.
Although I’m no longer an athlete, I still consider myself a distance runner because I'm familiar with all aspects of it. I still enjoy going on long runs because of the truly liberated feeling they give me. For every stride, heartbeat, exasperate breath, and many, many miles — my competition days might be over, but running will always be my love.
