Why do I Run?

Me at Leadville Medical Check-In

August 20, 2010
Leadville, CO



Why do you run? How many times have I answered that question? How many times have I smiled and shrugged my shoulders and went through the list: so I can eat, it reduces stress, I love being outdoors, just because?

Getting ready to run the most difficult and most challenging race I've ever encountered has led me to revisit this basic question, Why do I run? And to add to that question, what internal demon inside is possessing me to run 100 miles? Let me try to answer the first question first.

I run because I do love being outdoors. I run because I love the solitude and I run because I also love the camaraderie. I run because I like being in shape; I like the way my skin is soft yet the muscles are hard underneath. I run because I like fresh snow and I want to be the first to lightly ply my feet across it.  I run to think and I run so I don't have to think.

I run because I want to remember what it was like as a kid growing up in southern California running across the hot sand as fast as I could only to stop and quickly bury my feet under the burning sand.  I run to chase native american footprints down long and winding single track trails; to place myself in their moccasins and chase a deer or scout ahead of a warring party.

I run because my kids tell me, "Mom, go run! You need to get out." It relieves stress and by the end of my run I've transform from cranky and stressed-out to chilled and relaxed mom who can once more look at a messy room and smile.

The reason I run is truly undefinable and I cannot give one solitary reason as to why I run.  It is as difficult for me to explain the existence of God as it is to explain why I run.

So I sit here and try to wrap my head around the crazy desire I have to run 100 miles, on mountain trails, at elevation. The mountain trails are easily explained - I'd rather run on a trail than road/pavement any day. As for the rest, I wanted to do the Leadville Trail 100 mile race to prove that I could. That I am a runner, not just a mom, or a teacher, or an archivist, or even a casual runner who is not fast.  I wanted to prove that I was more than that; that I'm tougher than that.  I want to prove to myself, and the world in general, that I can push myself past pain, past the point that I think that I can run and continue in a new realm of pain and exhasution where I can still push myself to run, run, and run some more.

I do not like limitations. I do not like self-imposed or societal imposed limitations.  I am a person who looks at a "no" and wants to change that, somehow, some way, into a "yes."  I feel sorry for people who state "I could never do that."  It doesn't matter what it is that they are saying they cannot do; I want to shake them and say, "Of course you can't!  You've just told yourself you can't!  But what could you do if you told yourself you can?!"

I am telling myself I can run 100 miles.  I've trained for ten months. I 've run hard races.  I've eaten well, I am in the proper mental and physical state and for me ... failure is not an option. See you at the finish!