Why Run?

By now you have figured out that I’m not one of those runners who will die if they don’t run every single day.  My brain cannot conceive of participating in a marathon without the use of a car.  I have never gotten “in the zone” while running and lost track of how many miles or minutes I’ve gone.  I don’t look like the scantily clad skinny girls on the cover of Runner’s World magazine when I run, all fierce and gorgeous.   I can’t even run more than three minutes at a time without my lungs screaming at me to PLEASE STOP RUNNING!!!   All this, despite the fact that I have been running for almost four years! 

I was, however, inspired recently to look inward by an article in RW by Marc Parent called “Why Run?” (you can read it here:  http://www.runnersworld.com/article/1,7120,s6-238-520-492-14403-0,00.html).  It got me to thinking: if I hate it so much, why do I still torture myself with it?  So I made my own personal list.

Why Run?

- My legs.  I’m 40 years old now, and despite the nasty spider veins and freckles, my legs look pretty awesome for a 40-year-old.  In my mind, when I run I am outrunning cellulite.  My flexed quads are rock-hard.  My calves rival J.Lo’s any day of the week.  After only a week or so of not running, my old friend cellulite creeps up and attacks me from behind.

- Endurance.  One of the oldest moms at Webelo camp, I’m not even breathing hard after a brisk uphill 3-mile hike where the boys are all whining and red-faced.  As a high school secretary, I can spring up and down those gym stairs in heels with ease to get that kid for his orthodontist appointment.

- Health.  My “bad” cholesterol is low, and my supposedly good cholesterol is where it’s supposed to be (the letters escape me…LDL, HDL, PMS, SOS…) when and only when I am running.  I will not drop dead of clogged arteries anytime soon simply because I run, despite my southern roots and tendency to fry everything and smother it in gravy…and my weakness for tortilla chips.

- The tan.  Oh, come on.  Everyone looks better with a little glow.  And I wear my mp3 arm-band tan line with pride, thank you very much.

- It’s absolutely free.  With the exception of a decent pair of shoes, it costs me absolutely no money.  All the cool gear and clothes are merely luxuries.  I hate to hear myself panting so I invested in the arm band, and I honestly think my new neon tank top makes me .0001 second faster.

- Alone time.  I can’t hear my kids fight when I am out for a run, simply because I am not home.  I’m not washing or cooking anything.  I don’t have to be nice to anyone.  I don’t have to answer a phone.  It’s just me and my music.  I can listen to Madonna and Korn and Barry Manilow all in the same run and no one complains.

- Accomplishment.  Sometimes on a bad run when I start to notice people staring at me from the comfort of their cars I focus on the fact that I am running (or quite probably walking at the time) and they are not; they are all thinking they should be exercising too.  Maybe I’ve even inspired them to do just that when they get home.  After all, if I’m willing to look like that in public (red-faced, sweaty, taking tiny shuffling baby-jog steps, and panting like a basset hound) they might think they probably wouldn’t look too bad at all.

- Pride.  After I run, I am proud of myself, no matter how bad the run was or how much I ended up walking.  I survived another run while someone else somewhere sat on his or her couch.  I did not let excuses keep me home this time.  I should get a medal for actually displaying the willpower to run when I really just wanted a nap.

- Endorphins.  I have never run long enough or far enough to feel any kind of runner’s high; I just survive 2.5 miles of running.  Then when I get home and stretch and am dripping with sweat and smelling like a crew of Georgia roofers after a day of work in late July, there is great satisfaction in the fact that I am done.  I feel good and ready to tackle whatever’s next in my day.

- Stress relief.  If I run when I am mad at my husband or exasperated with my kids, I will be angry no more when I get home.  This is almost a guarantee.  Unless he really ticked me off.

- Inspiration.  They say the best way to teach your kids is to live by example.  I hope my own kids see that anyone can and should exercise…maybe even run.  When they see me after a long day at work rubbing my eyes with a yawn on my lips but still lacing up my shoes and going out the door to run anyway, they will see that I have made the decision to do the right thing for myself that in the end benefits us all (see above).