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InkTober 2017: Day 11 – Run

Today is a high pain day, so this will be a short post.

I’ve written in past posts that I used to be a runner. Running was a big part of my life at different times in my life. When I was young, it was about fun, school rivalry and competition, and winning. Winning a race was always a good, actually a euphoric feeling. One of the best wins came in junior high school when I won a major City race in a field my coach decided to test me in. I couldn’t believe I won that race because I wasn’t supposed to; I wasn’t even supposed to run it. So winning it gave the skinny little girl that I was a huge boost in self-confidence.

As I got older running became one of my biggest teachers. It taught me about toughness and self-reliance. When you’re out alone, in terrible weather, running a long route you have no one to rely on but yourself and you have to be tough to make it to the finish. Through this, I learned to respect the limits of my body. It’s one thing to tell yourself you can push through a little extra pain, but when that pain is indicative of an injury, you have to listen to your body. You have to stop, allow yourself to heal, and then try again at another time, which isn’t something I’ve always respected and ended up paying a price for it.

Running also taught me about healthy competition. The biggest message being that I am always my biggest competitor. Personal bests are called personal bests for a reason. That reason being that we shouldn’t be comparing ourselves to the accomplishments or the abilities of others: that’s a certain path to unhappiness. Furthermore, when we dig deep, it should be about self-improvement without harsh self-criticism. And the solitude, in which runners often exist – and introverts like me crave – gives one the time and opportunities for self-reflection to work through many internal conflicts and big life issues.

I miss having the ability to run for all these reasons and so many more. If you’re a runner I hope you’re taking advantage of every moment of this freeing activity that you have.

 

I Used To Be A Runner

I exercised for a few minutes today. It wasn’t very vigorous exercise, but when I finished I felt flushed and my heart rate was elevated. I marveled at how a small amount of physical activity affects me so greatly now in comparison to when I was a runner. I was the kind of runner that actually trained for races: 5km, 10km, and even Half Marathon and Marathon distances. I had a running partner and we were members of a running club. We became running partners because we noticed that when we ran with the larger group we ran at a similar pace. My running partner and I would run together on days the cub didn’t meet. It was great to have someone around to kick your ass on those days when you felt too lazy to get dressed and tie your shoes, or to make running a well-known route less boring. Now, even though neither of us runs anymore, we’re still good friends who support each other in different ways.

I miss running. I miss the steady fall of my feet on paved roads or hilly, dirt trails through city parks. I miss the bounce and cushion from a brand new pair of running shoes. I miss the familiar sound of the footfalls of other runners as we started out on a group run. I miss competing with myself – or my running partner – to improve my time to complete a single mile or the full distance of a race. I miss the single-minded, meditative focus of running until we completed a mapped route. I miss the freedom my body felt as I carried myself over miles of open space or along city streets, reminding myself to concentrate on nothing more than one perfectly planted footfall at a time.

The only things I don’t miss are my toenails becoming bloody, and eventually turning black then falling off, from the endless pounding of my feet against the hard ground; and people asking if we were crazy because we ran even in blistering heat or extreme cold weather. However, I wouldn’t mind those things now, if it meant I could run again. If it meant the only pain I felt would be muscle soreness or the burn in my lungs from pushing through the last distance of a run. I wouldn’t mind if the pain in my legs, hip, pelvis, and back meant I was active, instead of being my constant state of existence. I definitely wouldn’t mind if taking a pill was to relieve the temporary ache of a knee or rolled ankle, instead of pain medications making me able to move the same parts of my body now.

I would run again if I could. I would run without complaining about the heat or cold, or even the lightest rains. I would run without moaning about waking early on a weekend morning to train with my club for an upcoming race. I would run in appreciation of how amazing it is that the human body can transport itself with swiftness from one place to the next without external assistance. I would run to the rhythm of my rapidly beating heart, without any other soundtrack to distract me. I would run again, if I could, just because I can.

 

Manfred Mann – The Runner