Why Do You Run?
Hello and welcome to National Blog Posting Month 2021! I’m linking up with San to publish 30 blog posts in 30 days, starting today. Since this is a running blog, I thought the perfect first post for NaBloPoMo would be the story of how I fell in love with running. We have to go way back… back to the track in the basement of my high school, and freshman year PE. One of the many cruel tortures we endured was running “the mile.” The track was 1/10 of a mile around, so we ran it ten times… or at least, that was the idea. Two problems here: I was not especially athletic, and was also a rebellious teenager. I resented being forced to run, and furthermore resented having to take PE every day (we had PE every single school day, five days a week, K-12. No getting out of it- it was an Illinois state law.) Since our track was in the basement, there were posts going from the floor to the ceiling, and I- and my lazy rebellious friends- would hide behind the posts and wait for the rest of the class to lap us, then join in as if we had been running all along. Yes, I was a “mile cheater.” But this doesn’t mean I was opposed to exercise- on the contrary, I was fanatically doing Jane Fonda- type workouts in my bedroom all the time. My motivation for this is that I hated my body. I was hoping the leg lifts would slim my chunky legs, the glute bridges would fix my fat butt, and the crunches would get rid of my ugly stomach bulge. You must be thinking- wow, this girl was a mess. Yes- here’s a picture of my ‘horrible” teenage body. I know. I was a totally normal person! When I look at these old pictures, I could just cry. I wasted so much time obsessing over how my body looked, and so much energy being self conscious about it. Meanwhile PE was not going well. I was cutting class and the teachers hated me. To be fair, I was cutting other classes as well, but for some reason PE attendance was insanely strict. I narrowly missed having to take PE in summer school (screeaaam!) by going to after-school PE makeup classes. It was a nightmare. Then something good actually happened. Senior year I had the opportunity to take a special PE class for people who- for whatever reason-had trouble functioning in regular PE. It was called PE 7S-8S, and the “S” actually stood for “special.” The idea of this class is that everyone could-within reason- do whatever they wanted. A few of the boys opted to lift weights, some people played ping pong, but most people walked slowly around the track to fulfill their PE requirement. The other people in the class slightly resembled the cast of a Fellini movie, and the first day I sat next to the only person I knew, a boy I had been friends with slightly in middle school. We got to talking and it turned out we were both curious about running. We figured we were there, the track was there, and now that no one was forcing us to do it, why not finally run that mile we fought so hard against as freshmen? I can’t actually remember if we had to build up to it, or if we just did it, but before long we were running a mile every day. Then someone pointed out that we probably had time to run two miles during that class period, so we did that. I went from a class-cutting, PE-hating, mile cheater, to voluntarily running two miles every single school day. AND I LOVED IT. I couldn’t have articulated it at the time, but it was the first glimpse into a life where I didn’t hate my body. I had brief moments where I was focused more on what my body could do as opposed to my appearance. I was hungry after running, so I started eating lunch (instead of fasting all day which had been my norm.) It was the first time I actually exercised because it felt good, rather than as a means to correct all my horrible flaws. Of course, that’s not to say it was the immediate end of all my issues. It was the start of a process that would take many, many years. Without running I don’t think I would have been able to start that process at all. So funny that the awful track in the basement of my high school, and the PE class that was the bane of my existence for three years, would actually be the catalyst for this incredible transformation. (Side note- I actually got a commendation in PE that year. I don’t think I ever got a commendation in any other class during high school. The irony!) When that school year ended, I went on to increase my distance, eventually running races and marathons. I’ve literally been running ever since that senior year of high school- barring time off for injuries, during which I was just waiting to get back to running again. I’ve had a lot of ups and downs through the years, but I’ll never, ever give up on running. I’ve come a long way since those insecure teenage days, and I could probably survive without running now- but I don’t want to. Nothing else takes me out of my head and into the enjoyment of my physical body like running. I guess that would be the long-winded answer to the question: Why do you run? Do you call yourself a “runner?” Why do you run?