An article in the Wall Street Journal titled “Okay, You’re A Runner. Get Over It” seems to suggest that runners are uniquely boastful, or perhaps narcissistic, although that’s probably too strong a word. Apparently, running through neighborhoods and wearing running clothes when you run means you’re peacocking.
I used to despise running. It seemed so pointless. And boring. The activities that I played growing up were baseball, tennis and judo. The goal in those sport is clear: beat your opponent by scoring more points, or, in the case of judo, pinning him to the ground. You win. But running? You’re just putting one foot in front of the other. Over and over. I’m not racing anybody, so there’s nobody to beat.
Somewhere along the way, everything changed. Running became something that I have to do. I might go three or four days between a good run, but any more than that, and I feel like something’s off. I gotta get out. I gotta put one foot in front of the other.
The author of the article asks why someone would run. He suggests an answer:
I have a theory. There is no more visible form of strenuous exercise than running. When runners are dashing down a street in the middle of town or through a subdivision, they know that every driver, every pedestrian, every leaf-raker and every person idly staring out a window can see them.
These days, people want more than ever to be seen.
Sorry, but just plain wrong. Most of my running is done at a local park or wood chip greenbelt near my office. But it turns out that I have to get there somehow. So, I run.
I run because it’s great exercise. That’s why I started running, anyway. I had become out of shape and a little overweight. I was still playing basketball once or twice a week, but that just wasn’t enough. I bought some shoes and started running. Our species has been doing it from day 1, as far as anyone knows. That has to count for something.
I run because it’s convenient. I don’t have to pack a gym bag, fight for an elliptical or treadmill. I don’t need special gear or equipment. Good shoes are important to me, but if you have ever run a large 5k, 10k or longer event, you will see the guys out there with nothing between their little piggies and the asphalt! So, even shoes, it would appear, are optional.
I run because it clears my head. Many of my ideas and most of my writing bounces around and gets noodled while I run. It seems that the monotony of one foot in front of the other that used to be the reason I disliked running is exactly the peaceful mind space that I need to do some of my best thinking.
I run because my RunKeeper app tells me to. Then tracks it tracks my pace. I set a goal for how many miles I want to run each month, and it tells me how I’m doing on that. Perhaps this satisfies my need to keep score, but instead of beating an opponent who is also trying to beat me, I’m trying to beat myself. Improve. No, not beat myself. Better myself.
