A lot of people know that I like to run. I’m not very fast and I don’t call myself an athlete, I just like it. When discussing this topic with many folks, I get a plethora of responses. Here are my favorites:
“You mean you run all those miles at one time?”
“I don’t run unless someone is chasing me” followed by their own laughter.
“You running from the law?”
“How many miles is this marathon?”
“I hate to run”
The thing about running is that it is never really easy. Every Saturday morning I have to talk myself into it. It’s not the getting up early that’s a problem, it’s knowing what I am about to face. The heat…and not just any heat…Texas humid wet oven heat. The chaffing, oh my, if you don’t know what that is, trust me you don’t want to know. The aches allllll over. I usually get some knee pains, followed by ankle pain, then the burning in my thighs and hamstrings, followed by the crazy tightening of the back…but I keep going.
I do, however get to watch the sun rise on some mornings, and experience running through patches of fog, seeing the deer, rabbits, and turtles all come to life as I run by them. I love being the only one on the streets and hearing absolutely nothing except for the sound of my breathing. Sometimes I even ask myself why, why in the world am I doing this? Why am I going to bed early on a Friday night, leaving my family for hours on Saturday morning for this torture. The only answer I can come up with is, the feeling I get when it’s over. It is the best feeling of accomplishment ever. Putting my mind to something and losing myself to get there. It truly is the epitome of hope. I love it.
Running is a big question mark that’s there each and every day. It asks you, ‘Are you going to be a wimp or are you going to be strong today?’
Peter Maher, Irish-Canadian Olympian and Sub-2:12 marathoner
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