I went for a run today, a jog along an old rail bed turned into a cinder trail, and my mind started to wander. I never really get sick of running. Certainly, there are days that my body tells me I need a break and I embrace it, spending my time instead curled up with a book. And, there are days when my body probably needs a break but I don't allow it, only to suffer through an embarrassingly slow shuffle around the neighborhood. Running has taught me a lot: about myself, about life, and about random things like which water fountains are the coldest and least dirty in Central Park.
I suppose I officially started "running for fun" in middle school, but my childhood was spent playing games like hide-and-seek and tag and town soccer. When I was little, running was part of my games. I learned that it was way more fun to be outside being active than inside watching TV (I could write a whole blog on how ridiculously little I know about TV/movies/celebrities, and I attribute this to never watching TV when I was young; a small sacrifice for a life of staying busy).
When I joined cross-country in middle school, I learned how to balance my time. Practice was everyday after school, meets on Tuesday, Thursdays, and some Saturdays. At least three days of the week, I'd head directly from cross-country practice to the ice rink where I stayed for roughly four hours coaching skating and practicing. I had about 45 minutes of downtime, during which I at my dinner and did my homework sitting next to the heater in the locker room. And raided the snack bar. I attribute my Peanut M&M addiction to this period of my life.
Being a runner in middle school didn't generally correlate to being the coolest or trendiest kid (that status was reserved for the soccer and basketball players), but it provided me with a lot of respect, particularly when I could outrun such soccer and basketball players in the dreaded bi-yearly gym-class-mile. By nature, I'm not very competitive, but running taught me a little bit about determination, and I was determined not to let any of those cocky soccer or basketball boys outrun me in that mile.
Being a runner in high school, I learned a few additional things. In particular, I learned that running can be both incredibly boring and incredibly difficult. I reference the LSD runs around the school ("Long Steady Distance," in case you were getting any ideas) and those awful hill repeats on "Canning Hill." I also learned not to over-hydrate after a few episodes of collapsing at the end of races, resulting in numerous heart tests and blood tests only to establish that I was drinking water in excess out of sheer nerves prior to my races. I learned how to hurdle hay bales placed in the middle of cross-country courses, to embrace running in the rain, to accept bruised toenails, to successfully snot rocket (one nostril at a time, and never into the wind). Being part of a team ensured I learned all the words to "Build Me Up Buttercup," the "Mr. P handshake," and weird team traditions like head rubbing and human pyramids and tackle football (the latter I don't claim to be any good at).
College running was a whole new experience all together. I learned that running in a sports bra is acceptable in most circumstances, so long as that circumstance does not include downtown New London. I learned to bring a spare roll of toilet paper to large invitationals that only supply port-a-potties. I learned that solid white and solid black shirts hide sweat marks the best; gray the worst. College also taught me more about my potential; I could run for a really long time and could be fast if I wanted to be, and that I tended to run faster when I was less stressed about things. Additionally, I developed a love-hate relationship with bunners. I swear I run faster when I wear them, but this might be more out of embarrassment than anything. A piece of advice: don't put bunners in the dryer as it wears out the elastic. I learned this the hard way.
As much as I liked running on a team, post-college I learned that I prefer running for me. Grad school could be stressful and running offered me an escape. I'd go for long runs along the West Side Highway or through Central Park. I learned the layout of Manhattan by running its streets and parks. Being in a busy city, I learned to appreciate the parks the city had to offer. I think it's safe to say I can make it through Central Park's rambles with relative ease. Running also offered me an active way to study. I'm pretty sure I learned the entire visual transduction cascade by listening to my biochemistry lectures on my Ipod while running.
Post-college brought other little things: barefoot running, which showed me through sore muscles that my calves were not nearly as strong as I would have liked; marathons, where I learned the excruciating pain of mile 22; weekend "vent shuffles" with a friend, where I began to appreciate how therapeutic it can be to shamelessly complain about the annoyances of the previous week all while moving at a snail's pace.
The greatest part is that the pattern continues. I myself may be moving from place to place, experiencing new things, meeting new people, and about to start the next stage of my life as I will graduate (for good!) in three months. But, my running stays constant, and in that way it serves to settle me. It is here that I am comfortable, and learning every step of the way.
