Me, I run because I’m a runner, and I’m a
runner because I run. I run because I know what I am. I run because I’m
a human – we evolved these springy legs and feet to run with. I run for
the same reason cats snooze – it’s what we do. I run because I’m me,
and running is a big part of what I do.
I run because I’ve never been happier than since I started running.
With more encouragement to run as a teenager I’d have had a much
healthier, happier time of it.
Now, 6 months into a bout of plantar fasciitis I don’t feel so much
like a runner. In a good week I get to do 25-30km at a gentle pace. In a
bad one I might get to walk 10km. I can feel the anxiety that dogged me
through my teens and early adulthood returning. I can feel the
confidence and independence and mental resilience lent me by the ability
to run a marathon and more draining away.
I’m still a runner. Somewhere in my head, and my feet, and my heart and lungs, I’m still a runner.
I run because I’ve never been happier than since I started running. With more encouragement to run as a teenager I’d have had a much healthier, happier time of it.
Now, 6 months into a bout of plantar fasciitis I don’t feel so much like a runner. In a good week I get to do 25-30km at a gentle pace. In a bad one I might get to walk 10km. I can feel the anxiety that dogged me through my teens and early adulthood returning. I can feel the confidence and independence and mental resilience lent me by the ability to run a marathon and more draining away.
I’m still a runner. Somewhere in my head, and my feet, and my heart and lungs, I’m still a runner.
A few more months…
(Cross posted from a comment I made here: https://pursuingthevoid.wordpress.com/2016/07/26/i-cant-run-today-day-2/)