Why?

Why run? People ask all the time. Endurance sports are polarizing. Even amongst the athletic, there are plenty of people (many of whom look a hell of a lot more fit than I) who laugh at the thought of spending any significant time pounding trail or pavement. An ad for a Marine-style obstacle course competition describes itself as ‘not another soul-sucking endurance run’—as if marathons make you a zombie, but crawling through mud makes you a man. There’s even a chart at the gym where I’ve been working out that diagrams how < time spent on aerobic exercise leads to > power and strength. And non-athletes can’t seem to fathom what I must give up (Sudoku) in order to spend hours and hours stretching, running and recovering. So they ask.

There are standard answers—I needed a way to stay fit on the road, and running is the most portable, DIY sport. It gives me time to think, it’s cheaper than therapy, it helps me practice patience and understand delayed gratification. People ask, you don’t listen to music—don’t you get bored? And I reply, no, and I truly feel sorry for you if you feel bored after spending an hour inside your own head. I love that I learn my way around new cities by foot instead of by car. But the real reason encompasses all of these and more.

I do it because it’s a way to be better. Every time I run, I set out as myself and come back improved. Sometimes it’s mental, it’s about figuring out a problem that’s been bothering me, teasing out a solution over the miles. Sometimes it’s about seeing something beautiful and knowing that I can’t capture it on a camera and load it onto FB, but that it’s all mine to enjoy in the moment. Sometimes it’s about achieving a goal, hitting a pace, or perfecting my stride, and sometimes it’s simply about surviving a workout I thought I might not have the strength to complete. When I first began training, my dad told me I’d grow to dread my days off, my ‘rest’ days. I laughed—at the time, I couldn’t wait to take a day off! Yet, as is so often the case with parents, he turned out to be right and then some. Even when it’s uncomfortable, I prefer running to not running. It centers me, it grounds me, and in this ever-shifting life I’ve chosen, gives me a sense of forward momentum.

If you get it, or even if you don’t, but you support me anyhow, please donate here. I’m running the Chicago Marathon this fall in support of Access Living Chicago, which advocates for the rights of people with disabilities. The more you give, the faster I’ll go!