Because I can.
This splendid Saturday morning on the local walking/running trail inspired this post.
I remember the first time I had to run a mile. It was in high school P.E. We couldn’t believe Coach expected us to do that. A whole mile? Without stopping? I remember starting out and thinking I was going to die for the longest time as I chugged out the laps. Something made me push the pace, too. I had no idea how I needed to pace myself—-none of us had ever run that far before, and we also feared the embarrassment among adolescent male peers whose still-blooming manhood might have been called in question if anyone pooped out.
The whole time I ran, I thought my chest and lungs were going to burst, but once I finished, though winded, I kinda felt, “Hey, that was cool!” I think my time was just over seven minutes, which is a far better time than I have run in my adult life. That run may have produced my first endorphin rush, though I don’t specifically recall.
Anyway, I’ve been in a runner for most of my life since then, and I’ll keep on running as long as I can, even if running on many days is limited to intervals of walk/run/walk run. So many of my peers wish they could run: bad knees, bad backs, bad feet, bad hearts—-age is not a runner’s friend! So I am blessed.
So with that blessing, as long as I can hold the debilitating effects of aged bones and joints at bay, I’ll run . . . because I can.
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