Thoughts on Running

I wish I'd written this down on Sunday during or after the race. But I was to obsessed with not dying.

I am a terrible runner. Slow. Easily distracted. Goofy Fuel Belt. But I love it. I'm not winning any money anytime soon... in fact, they're pretty much taking my money and allowing me to cause myself pain and momentary misery, but it's all worth it...

I am a masochist. I dig the pain. Sore back, sore hips, blisters, sunburn, swelling my shoes to their limit. I like feeling like I got up and did something worthwhile with my day. Lots of people don't have leg strength, strong muscles, nerves to tell them that things hurt... some even legs at all. I'm so glad God gave me all of that, it'd be almost wrong not to push them to their limits.

I am a voyuer. I like to watch. Speed, form, muscles moving, sweat dripping, feet leaving the ground and returning, arms pumping, abs turning... the human body is amazing.

I am all about the camraderie. We're an elite group, those of us who consider it the greatest sport of all to achieve so much without any equipment aside from our shoes. That the magic lies not in the bat, the club, the engine, the ice, the ball... but in the ability to put one foot in front of the other with determination, that the only way to win is to get back home.

I have always been a vain fan of pedicures. I loved my pretty, shiny red toenails. But like a badge of honor, my blisters, scars, and broken toenails remind me that I am tough, and I can go and go and go and go in a way those pretty red toenails only dreamed about.