Why and How I Run

I am writing this on the eve of June 26th, the night before departing on the mission trip.� Last night at the fire pit, I mentioned how I had gotten four of the five blogging days covered but was still short a blogger.� Tod asked me if it really mattered that I miss a day.� "Noooo" I hedged.� But I guess it does kind of matter.� I like being dedicated to something I have committed myself to.� It means something to me.



My blogging ethics are a lot like my running.� They are both activities I enjoy even if at times they can each, in their own way, make me crazy with a feeling of obligation.� Yet the payoffs are worth it.� I haven't lost another pound since I started running but weight loss was never my reason for wanting to run.



When I was a teenager my father briefly took up running.� He would come home in the evenings after a long day of delivering mail, have dinner and then start a slow jog down the sidewalk.� I would feel a pang of envy watching him, but as heavy as I was at the time it felt as if it were barely an option for me.



I tried it once when no one was looking and I made it to the corner before gasping for air and making the instant decision that I could never be a runner.� There was a pang of disappointment that accompanied the thought but I buried it deeply with all my other disappointments concerning the hand I felt as I had been dealt where my body was concerned.� I remember having to run cross county in high school gym class and walking almost all of it, despite the teacher's barking at me to run.� I would only run until I couldn't hear her bitching at me any longer.� I had given up on running and if I couldn't do it to please myself, I would be damned if I was going to attempt it again to please someone else.



Then I lost weight and in the back of my mind came the little niggle of my long time desire to want to run.� But I was scared.� What if I couldn't do it?� I spent a lot of time talking to Tod about it as he had taken it up a few years ago.� Talking.� A Lot.� Not much action.� Sure, I was working out religiously, but fear kept holding me back from trying.



Fear held me back from lots of things in the past.� Relationships, friendships, goal setting.� I felt there was very little point.� I had abandoned many of my dreams figuring I would never be good enough to achieve them.� Too defective.� Too much had happened to me in the past for me to possibly believe that I would ever be able to achieve the things I wanted to.� There are times this still flares up but I now struggle to ignore it.



Losing weight finally gave me the confidence to try to run.� Two minutes kicked my ass but I kept at it, kept setting new goals and little by little I was able to do more and more.� I love the journey of running, of only competing against myself, focusing only on what I chose to focus on, which for now is distance and not speed.�



I will be taking my running shoes on the trip tomorrow with hopes of a run or two, but minimally, our extra day at the beach I want to get in a run near the water.� It's a dream of mine and I plan on holding onto it.