Somedays, I just feel so damn lucky to be a runner. Yes, absolutely lucky. For those who say “bah, I only run if I’m being chased,” or “...sometimes on the soccer field” you could stop reading now. This might not be your thing. For my fellow runners: those wonderful people clad in too-short of shorts and mismatched neon, sweaty and chafed in all the weird spots, and endlessly chasing PRS and the esteemed runner’s high...this one is for you.
I realize I’m off the trail of whatever vaguely-defined direction this blog was going to follow in its beginning, but, it wouldn’t be a “Kerry-blog” without a post or two about running.
Running is freedom.
It’s the time in the day to look forward to, knowing that once the shoes are laced up and begin pounding the pavement, the day’s anxieties and absurdities fall away. Somedays it’s a LSD day (ahem, long slow distance day, even with my tendency to be a little trippy), where you pick the pretty routes, find a rhythm, and simply roll with it. Somedays it’s a grit it out kind of day, where you’re either just “running really freaking fast" or participating in the love-hate relationship of speedwork on the track. Then, of course, there's that small masterpiece and gut check, the race. Whatever its form, the run is a minor escape from the clatter of the day and a few moments of freedom from daily demands.
Perhaps a draw to running is its purity and simplicity. There’s a bit of wildness in tearing across pavement, the sand, or a muddy trail. There's also a singleness of mind that is tough too find today, only present when 100% involved in something and unencumbered by distraction. Shoes, you, and a probably some clothes is all that's required. Or, perhaps you’re streaking and don’t need anything at all, a truly exhilarating moment in running, and freedom at its finest. (WAHOO WAH, U.Va and our traditional Lawn streaking).
In the end, and every runner understands this at the core, there is no space for excuses. There is only a body in motion and acceptance of whatever decisions made before a test. People get fancy with running apps, running gels, and heart rate monitors, but good runners knows when it’s time to ditch them.
On a track, it’s quite simple. You either conquer the long oval, or it conquers you. It’s an ongoing war with many hard fought battles. The heartbreak and the accomplishments are our own, and the victories quieter than most. And those quiet victories, when the only finishing tape you’ve broken is your own? Those can be the sweetest.
I could go on about my love for running for pages, so I'll stop for now. Nobody enjoys the sport of running at first. It’s like one of those people you have to get to know over time, in order to reveal whatever he or she has to offer.
10+ years ago: UGGGGHHHHH,” what did I get myself into?!?” I gasped, soon after crossing my first high school cross country race finish line at Bells Mill Park in Chesapeake, Virginia. It was a sincerely miserable experience. I don’t remember much of that race in itself, just the sharp shadow of pain and thinking along the lines of: “how the hell do these people run so fast?...this hurts a lot....catch that swinging ponytail ahead....thank goodness for Aubrey’s mom’s cookies at the end.” (I’m serious about the cookies. They’re truly the best).
I stuck with it for the year, though, and I think a dedicated year is what it takes to get adjusted to almost anything. I loved my teammates, my goofy yet genuine coach, and the thrill of competition. Once you’ve become a part of the game, it’s hard to leave it.
However, the year I fell in love with running was the year it seemed the rest of my life fell apart. Tough things and craziness ensued after the move with my family to Pecnsacola, Florida in 10th grade. This, along with the normal tumult of the teenage years, was a lot to handle as a 15-year-old. Therefore, I literally ran away from my problems. I logged hundreds of miles along the sandy beaches and on the base’s wooded trails. In the summertime, I’d wake up before the sun to avoid the suffocating deep south heat. I'd jump in the ocean after a lot of my runs.
Competitively, I didn’t PR once. I didn’t even participate in the track season. I was a fine runner, but couldn’t really pull it together in the heat, or in my head. Running for yourself, though, is when running transitions into something beyond sport.
There are various stages in running, with some overlap or returns back to previous stages. Jeff Galloway, a renowned runner and researcher, presents one way of looking at here: 5 Stages of a Runner . I suppose I returned to Competitor Stage when I returned home to my team at Oscar F. Smith High School. (My mom, sis, and I moved back to Virginia for junior and senior year). Running became 100% ‘my thing'. No longer would I “skip out” on my weekend runs. During track season, I’d request extra sets or sprinters to pace with in intervals, oftentimes running solo around an asphalt track.
As I might have mentioned...I loved it. I loved the adrenaline, the excitement, the performance, and the camaraderie. People in the running world are grand. Runners tend to be the most genuine and optimistic people you’ll come across. Even amongst rivals, there’s usually a great spirit. Oftentimes, I’d fall into sweaty hugs with my toughest competitors after a race, when moment’s before we were hunting each other down and throwing elbows. There’s a unique bond and an appreciation for a race well run, whether it’s your own or another’s.
End high school, end competitor stage.
Except not really. It takes time to transition into “Runner” stage again. I had a new, (fast!) team to run with at the University of Virginia, and was still pretty locked-in to competitor mode. Virginia Club Cross Country was a defining feature of my collegiate experience and a wonderful piece of my time at U.Va. My memories with them are the sweetest. I cried, no bawled, when I watched our 5th runner cross the finish line at our National Championship race in 2012, knowing we’d taken the victory. I’d never been that emotional after one of my own races.
When you’re truly a runner, running spills into life in all kinds of ways. Sometimes in funny ways: running home in heeled boots after bars with your runner friend (always seemed like a good idea at the time), lacing up your shoes and running to class with a notebook because you’re late, literally running errands, looking over to giggle/grimace at your friend on a Sunday 9-miler as you questioned last night’s decisions, finding it normal to lay down with your legs vertical against a wall to move the lactic acid around, or while the rest of UVa talked about J. Crew and Vineyard Vines, we compared our Asics to our Sauconies.
Running also affects us in more significant ways. We reached corners of Charlottesville that the majority of students never saw. We planned days around practice or our “run times.” Clarity, calm, and creativity...these are the things my teammates and I found through excellent runs. Running together, we bonded over miles of endorphin-infused conversations, or perhaps in silence as we ran next to our partner, matching pace and rhythm with no excess of words required.
Every runner comes at running with different motivations and talent levels, different quirks and tendencies in their biomechanics, and different levels of commitment. The unexplainable parts of running are what keeps it colorful. There’s both a science and an art to it. Some will never leave the jog-around-the-neighborhood stage, and that’s cool too. No two runners are the same. However, most of us share that universal runner nod when we pass each other on the sidewalk, an unequivocal understanding passed between people with thousands of miles on their shoes.
Finally, and I do mean "finally" because this is such a long post, when someone says “running is boring,” I smile and shut down. Come back and tell me running is boring after you’ve run yourself into the ground, where your blood courses through your limbs like battery acid and you’ve smacked head-on into the proverbial wall. Try a late night December run, where Xmas lights light up the cold, crisp air. Tear up a snow-encrusted, leaf-covered mountainside, because the world makes more sense on top of a mountain. Stride down a beach and into the waves at sunrise. Get lost in a big city or on the trails that surround it. Seek out runs in stormy weather, rather than shying away from them. Let it become your craft, the thing that makes you feel most alive.
I have many, but one of my all-time favorite running memories took place on a morning run in New Orleans. It was eerily quiet and peaceful on the streets, the sky a cloudy gray-blue. As I ran down the seawall, I came across a man with a trumpet, playing a tune oddly upbeat and sorrowful at the same time. Before that moment, I’d been disappointed by the lack of good music I’d heard in New Orleans. I stopped to listen for a few minutes, and he looked up to pause and give me a smile. We connected right then, respecting and appreciating each other’s pursuit of our chosen crafts. He went back to playing, and after a few moments I turned on my heels to be on my way.
Most of us have our own bit of crazy, our own passion that shapes how we see things. Perhaps the only true “craziness” is when someone ignores those things that set them on fire. RUNNING is only one of many lenses to look through, and it’s certainly not the end all be all. In fact, taking a few steps back from it brings a fresh appreciation, and allows other things to fill in the spaces its left. But running, my friends, has its major perks.
If you’re new to running or just getting into it, I hope you’ve been inspired by my ramblings to go outside and lace-up. If you’re a veteran, I hope you don’t forget to enjoy the ride sometimes.
Keep runnin’ peeps. I’ll catch you on the trails.
<PS>: Check out this really awesome, 2 minute film: What moves you? A film for runners, by runners.
Maine Trails
