It has taken me a long time to be completely comfortable with saying that, since most people think of runners as tall, skinny, fast people.
I have, at various times in the past, been fast -- well, faster than I am now. But now that I'm rolling through middle age, I find it's harder and harder to keep those miles under ten minutes per.
And, like many runners, I tend to suffer a lack of motivation for running in the cold dark icy snowy weather -- and even if I've got the motivation, sometimes in Alaskan winters the actual trail is hard to find! So I recently signed myself up for Runner's World Magazine's annual Holiday Streak Challenge: to run at least one mile every single day between Thanksgiving and New Year's. To make sure I didn't welsh, I also recruited a bunch of my Facebook buddies. I now report my daily updates to thirty eight other runners who help keep me honest.
Our group allowed a little fudging room in our own version of the challenge, just in case that one mile is especially hard to find, due to weather, schedule or logistics. So, acceptable substitutions are one mile cross-country ski or three miles on a bike. Since I've been working twelve hour shifts the past two days, both of those days were on a bike. But today I got to lace up the trainers and head out on my own two legs.
All of which got me to thinking what is it, exactly, that makes me "a runner"? And why am I so damn happy about it?
Last night, I awoke about four o'clock in the morning and was so excited about going running today that I almost couldn't fall back asleep. Some people would say that's just weird. But none of those people would be runners.
So what is it to run? Well, of course, these answers vary -- even with me -- depending on what day you ask. But today I can confidently say:
-- It clears my mind. -- I don't ever run outdoors with headphones. There's too much going on. In Alaska, there are also bears, but that's not the main reason. I like just being a part of the earth, the trees, the hills (ugh! the hills!), the creeks…. So my mind just runs free. Sometimes I'm working through a problem, from work or a personal relationship, but most of the time I'm just letting my mind run, too. When I'm done, most of my problems don't seem so insurmountable. Or even relevant.
-- It's primal. -- Anyone can do it, and man has been doing since … well, since before we were Man. Sure, the right clothing and gear are helpful, but truthfully all you really need is a reasonable pair of shoes. That's it. And you can run anywhere. Sometimes I like to imagine some Neanderthal man or woman working off an argument about who forgot to store the wooly mammoth steaks out of the reach of the canids by taking a run across the veldt and blowing off some steam before coming back to the cave. It's possible, right?
-- It unites us. -- Whenever I travel, I try to run. First of all, I enjoy running. But perhaps more importantly, when I run in Paris or Barcelona or Frankfurt, I feel a camaraderie with the other runners I see in the parks and on the streets. I may or may not speak their language or truly understand their customs or their lives, but this one thing makes us brothers, at least for that moment.
-- It's an accomplishment. -- Sure, my three miles today might not mean much by itself, but most of my friends do not run; many of them do not exercise in any way. It makes me sad for them (and for the world, as I doubt it's not only my friends who are inactive), but it also makes me look back over the long history of how many times I've "only run three miles." I added it up one day, and having started running when I was sixteen years old, I can confidently say that I've run over 10,000 miles in my lifetime… and I'm still going.
Of course, there are all the other reasons, like keeping fit and being able to eat more, but none of those things nurture my soul the way these other things do. These are the things that keep getting me out there when maybe I'm a little sleepy, or if I'd rather fall into a book for the day.
And I have another confession to make: I think of giving it up sometimes. This past year or two have been packed pretty full of assorted injuries: when the hip stopped hurting, the ankle started; when the ankle cleared up, the back kicked in. So I quit for a while: I swam and rode a bike and tried assorted elliptical and stair-climbing machines. But I really missed running. I missed those first few steps when your body is fresh and eager as coiled springs, as it falls into its own familiar rhythm.
So I struggle through the hills and the weather and the self-doubt and the pitfalls of aging and the slowing per-mile times…. because I'm a runner.
