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.