the truth about running
i think i get it. i think i am guilty of unknowingly glamorizing running, and i just want to set the record straight here for a minute.
a lot of people see runners and see these people who are happy, overflowing with post-run endorphins, wearing cute running clothes, colourful watches showing mile splits, and professing how much they love to run. you think “i want that kind of happiness. i’m going to be a runner, too!” and so you go out and run. lace up the shoes, throw on the shorts, and head out the door.
and then it’s awful. it hurts, it’s hot, you can’t catch your breath, muscles you didn’t know you had start aching, and a single mile seems impossible let alone 3 or 4. you think “wait, surely i must be doing this wrong. this is the actual worst. i need to go back and check for what i missed. what’s the secret? how do i do this in a way that i enjoy? how do you make yourself run and like it?!”
so here’s the truth: running is hard. sweat stings my eyeballs and makes me want to rub my contacts out. this morning i ran before the sun was up and the humidity was actually 100% and it felt like 94f, so i was soaked before i actually started sweating. i got to the top of a hill and couldn’t even put my hands on my knees when doubled over because they’d slip right off. i think i foam roll my butt more than most humans do any other things. i eat like a puma. sometimes i come home after a 10 mile run and lay on the floor for a solid 20 minutes and couldn’t put a coherent thought together if my life depended on it, but i am content to just be there on the floor, contemplating my own existence in this universe. on most runs, i am convinced any man who looks at me longer than 3 seconds is plotting where to bury my body. the cute watch you see me wear is usually so sweat-soaked i can’t even read it. and even when i can see it, i have to risk taking my eyes away from the trail and sending myself flying into the ditch from tripping over roots or rocks. hey, did you know you can chafe anywhere? yeah. and also, my toenails are black, completely black, from my marathon two months ago.
i don’t love running in spite of all that. i love running because of all that. i think if it was easy and sugar-coated i’d be bored. i’dve been done with running a loooong time ago. but i never get tired of running - it never stops exciting me. there’s always more to learn, there’s always room to grow. there’s always some challenge to find, to conquer, to push myself toward. that’s what makes me love it. if that’s not what you want out of a hobby, running probably isn’t for you. i get out the door at 5am because i want the pain and i want the struggle and i want the pure, simple joy i get from the trails and my feet on the pavement and the absolute clarity i find in my thoughts. the sheer depth of gratitude i feel, for everything in my life, when i am running is parallel to none. i become my best self through running, through enduring.
so i guess that’s what i wanted to say. it’s not easy, it’s hard. and the secret? most of the best things in life require more work than a lot people want to put in. running will always be one of those things.
