My dad asked, "Why the hell are you running now?" I tried to think of an appropriate answer, but was called away by the sound of my son shrieking and slobbering on something antique that shouldn't be handled so violently.
I'm not entirely sure where this started. Somehow, the idea of running a marathon wiggled into my mind and it became of those Things I Want To Accomplish Someday. So, I started running with no particular goal or date or distance or time in mind. I wanted to determine if this thing was as detestable as it was during 5:30am basketball practice.
It was entirely different. I was doing it for me. The solitary aspect of it was immediately soothing, and the feel of fire in my legs and lungs was no longer an enemy. It was something to know and remember and push through. Above it all, though, is the simple sense of accomplishment. Finishing the run is important, and the knowledge that I'm capable of overcoming those little doubts that blossom in my head each time I'm out there makes me happy. I've registered for my first half-marathon in mid-May, and I already know that I'll finish all 13.1 miles without incident.
Health benefits aside, running is this constantly moving place to learn and find and hear things inside me that I didn't know were there. It is a constant journey along the roads and paths through the quiet neighborhoods and the avenues of my mind and heart, and I am enjoying it immensely.
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