on running

I’m obviously not an expert on running. I’ve only run 5Ks, a few 10Ks, and a lonely marathon. And I’m not fast, either. I finished my most recent 10K in 1:06, which is about average for me. I ran my marathon in 5:00.12. So, you know… super fast. Because of this, I have never really thought of myself as a serious runner. A turtle, maybe, crawling through the course just hoping to make it to the finish line… but never a serious runner.

I had an epiphany on my 4-mile run over lunch today: I am a runner. No, I’m not fast and I’ll never compete against the amazing athletes who win these races, but I don’t care. And, for once in my life, I’m okay with not winning. I finally understand that the journey is the reward. I run road races so I can prepare for them. The preparation is what makes me feel alive and know that I accomplished something with my own strength, my own will, and without anyone making me do it.

In no other aspect in my life am I so patient, so willing to struggle at something to get to my destination over and over and over again. And I think that’s just dandy.