I love being a runner. I groan every morning when my alarm goes off way too early - I’ve never been able to get up easily. Then I force myself to drink a ton of water because it’s going to be hot and humid, even though it’s early. If I’ll be running for more than an hour, I force myself to eat a little something despite not being hungry yet or even fully awake. The first few miles are usually the hardest because I have to settle in, but then it clicks and everything fades from reality except the moment and I love that. Feeling nothing and everything all at once. I love hearing my watch beep and knowing I’m one mile closer (or further, as the case may be), even if I can hardly see because I’m sweating so much. I love passing by other runners and nodding or waving in solidarity. I love exploring new roads and trails and noticing things I would never see in a car, in places I would never be if I weren’t running. I love when every worry, stress, or fear I have vanishes because it’s just me and the dirt or the pavement. The longer I run for the higher the sun gets, the bigger the hills start to look, the more tired my legs get, the more tempting every single sprinkler begins to look. But I love the struggle; I love the fight; I love to get stronger. I love every minute of it. Getting home and knowing I just ran 6, 8, 10, 12, etc. miles before the rest of the world has made breakfast is a special feeling. The world is infinitely clearer and more beautiful to me after I’ve gotten my run in, even if the rest of the day is full of ice, painful foam rolling, lots of stretching, being ravenous, and already feeling sore. Running makes me feel strong and confident and capable. Running provides community and structure, which I am even more grateful for now that I am 3,000+ miles away from what used to be home. I love knowing that no matter what is going on in my life, I have my next run to look forward to. I love being a runner.
