The Gift (updated and reposted)

The last few weeks I've been asked by an unusually large number of people why I choose to run--why I put myself through discomfort, what I find valuable about running, etc.  So, for your collective benefit, I am reposting something I wrote on my blog a year or so ago, in which I outlined this topic.  I have made some minor edits to the original, as my experience is significantly greater today than it was a year ago.  Hopefully this will shed some light on why I choose to spend much of my free time and energy doing something that many people find unpleasant.  I am not doing this to toot my own horn, but to give you an idea of how a healthy pastime can help a person, what running does for me in particular, and in my own way to thank the Man Upstairs for the Gift he has given me.  Who knows, as unlikely as it seems, maybe some of you will join the Borg [Star Trek reference] and take up running after reading this.   I hope you get something out of it.  Please enjoy, and maybe you will understand me a little better in the process.

"The real purpose of running isn't to win a race, it's to test the limits of the human heart." - Bill Bowerman 

Last September I had the choice opportunity to pace a good friend and mentor of mine through 15 miles of the Bear 100 trail race, and to be part of his personal race crew for the remaining 85 miles.  The course begins in Logan, UT, and winds up and down the mountains of the Bear River Range, finishing at Bear Lake, mostly on single-track trails marked only by the occasional pink or blue ribbon or reflector strip.
I have run a (relatively) fast marathon before, and even got lucky enough to win one.  I have run an ultramarathon.  I know what it is like to have my legs literally feel like they are being shredded in a meat grinder.  I know what it is like to have every single muscle in my body cramp like the torsion spring so I can't even walk to the massage table after a race, but yet I feel inside like jumping for joy because I just ran a marathon in under two hours and forty minutes, and with room to improve.  I know what it's like to break the qualifying standard for the Boston Marathon by 17 minutes in my first marathon, and within minutes know I could run much faster.  I know what it's like to run a mile in four and a half minutes.  Two miles in under ten.  I know what it's like to win a high school regional championship, or to run back to back 800 M races out of necessity, and win the second one for my relay team, which made it possible to win the team championship by only a point.  I know what it's like to collapse across the finish line because I literally gave everything in me to win a race.  But I can't yet imagine what it would be like to complete 100 miles.
The experience of watching this athlete and friend conquer this race was life changing, and is not one I will likely forget.  I could write an entire piece on that accomplishment alone:  The preparation necessary, how it compresses much of the experience of an entire lifetime into just under 21 hours, how the athlete experiences the whole range of human emotion during the course of the race, how he must have near-perfect trust in his race crew and pacers to get him across the finish line, the support needed from family and those closest to him in order to accomplish such a goal...I could go on.
Observing my friend, while in a state of complete exhaustion at the end of his race, find a spark somewhere deep inside to sprint the last 200 meters at 3:00 AM with probably less than 15 people to see it, was inspiring.  I watched the physical and mental pain he had to endure, and I found myself amazed at how he was still able to appreciate and feel the joy of such an accomplishment.   The experience changed me, causing me to reflect on the reasons I run, and then my life and what I want it to be--not only with regards to running, but in all aspects.  That is what this piece is about--how running helps me not only to see what I want out of my life, but how it enables me to accomplish those goals.
I have decided to list the reasons I run, in no particular order, for your perusal.  I know that most people will never understand running, and I don't really expect them to.  From the junior-high kid who sort of mocks me as I run by yelling "Run, Forrest, Run!", to the friend who looks at me like, "I'm happy for you, but why would you do that to yourself!?" when I describe to them a particularly enjoyable run, people generally look upon running as some mix of masochism and a painful program to "get in shape" that only works for freaks.   Not that I blame them for thinking that.  Sometimes it does hurt.  Sometimes it does suck to force yourself to run for two hours in single digit (or triple digit) temperatures.  I will be the first to tell you that is the case.  And some people do run just to "get in shape." But some unnatural urge to torture myself for a BMI that would make Kiera Knightly jealous is not the reason I run.   Here are a few of my reasons, again in no particular order:

Reasons I run:

--Sense of accomplishment when my training pays off in a race
--It is relaxing (I promise!)
--Healthy competition
--Making new friends out of all types of people.  Runners understand each other.
--I can eat as much as I want of whatever the I want and not worry (though I usually try to be at least a little careful)
--Runners' High.  Yes, it's real.
--Where else am I going to get an hour to do nothing but think?
--It helps me recharge mentally and refocus on other things when I am done
--I will never have to worry about getting enough exercise
--Long runs in the desert under a full moon
--The smell of a mixture of my own sweat and freshly cut alfalfa
--Bombing down a rough single track at a fast pace and NOT tripping
--Long runs in thunderstorms
--Running to the top of a mountain, stopping to catch my breath, and in that moment being able to take in the view and the utter silence and see an eagle flying hundreds of feet below me
--Tanned upper thighs
--Hearing hundreds of people that don't know you from Adam screaming for you as you approach the finish line
--Weird looks you get from people on campus as you run through it on the way to your route for the day
--Meeting people who are among the best in the world at what they do, but seeing that they are normal people just like me, and watching them cheer on the last-place runner long after they have themselves crossed the line
--Learning to be master of my body
--Being around so many people that I look up to
--Helping others appreciate the gift that they have been given by God in the form of a body and a mind and soul to use it for good.
--I run because I can, and I can because God has given me that ability.

These are just a few of probably dozens of reasons I could list if I were to sit here an hour.  Running is more than just a sport or a hobby to me.  I am not always able to do it as much as I would like, but I never want to give it up because of what it brings into my life.  Running has taught me much about life itself.
I once had a third grade teacher who took pride in having his class memorize various inspirational speeches and poetry.  Once, he offered five dollars to the first person who could perfectly memorize a poem entitled The Race (It's well worth a Google search), which describes the courage of a young boy in a foot race who repeatedly falls, but each time hears the far-off voice of his father, telling him to "Get up, and win the race!"  The boy lost the race, but gained the courage to face setback and disappointment.  I wanted that five bucks, so I memorized that poem and repeated it back to him.  I got the money, but I also got much more, although I didn't realize it at the time. Having been an avid runner for nine years or so now (minus a two year break), I finally understand to some degree what that poem was trying to teach.  And if it were not for running, I don't think I would have ever fully grasped the concepts taught in that poem.
Running has taught me that no matter what happens, as long as I  don't give up, as long as I keep fighting--even if it is against a part of myself, that everything will work out alright in the end.  It has taught me that life is never going to be easy, but that those rare moments of triumph interspersed between long periods of monotony, drudgery, or pain are worth far more than the cost.  I have learned that there is a finish line somewhere up ahead, just a few more turns of the trail and a few more mountains to climb.  It feel as if it is a long way off, but thankfully God has provided each of us with a crew and pacers in our family, friends, and other people we meet along the way who will get us to that line if only we will keep moving, however slow of a shuffle it may seem at times.  Likewise, we must pace others along the way, giving encouragement and assistance where needed.  I am grateful that God saw fit to give me this one gem of a talent, among the others he has given me.
I will probably never be an Olympian, but I will always find joy in pushing my body to its limits and in learning how to live life from that process.  To give it up, or to squander it with pride would be to return without thanks a gift that has been given to me.  As the famous American 5000 meter runner Steve Prefontaine once said:  "To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the Gift."


For anyone interested in following my running, please check out my running blog:  http://fastr-thn-yr-avg-joe.fastrunningblog.com/