I'm grateful to say that I had a happy and active 70s and 80s childhood, full of bike rides, rollerskating, swimming, tennis, skiing, and various other kid hijinx. I also fell in love with ballet from my first lesson at age three and danced up to four times a week for nearly a decade.
But running without stopping on purpose? No thank you. In fact, I didn't know I had asthma until I had to run a mile for the Presidential fitness test in junior high school. I remember crying as I finished the last lap around the track.
Then, one day a couple of years later I decided to just try again. Just to see. With no one watching, no one to see me fail, I managed to run exactly one mile. Well fuck, I thought, may as well join the track team. I loved being on the team, but I hated the meets. I dreaded them so much that I only went to two of them and I came in dead last both times. But running through the trails in the woods behind the school was idyllic. Perfect. Peaceful, yet exhilarating.
I have been an irregularly regular runner for over 30 years. Even though I'm not particularly great at it, I just enjoy the fact that I can do it. That no matter how long I go without doing it, it doesn't take long to get back in the swing.
Running isn't a great way to lose weight, for me, anyway. It's kind of crap for that, for whatever reason.
For the last ten years, however, I run for one reason and one reason only: to remind myself that I'm alive. Is it the only or even the best way to feel alive? Nah, of course not. I don't have any lack of gratitude for the fact that I'm relatively young and healthy. But having watched three people say their last good-byes in recent years, going for a run is my way of fully experiencing my body. Being able to run for 5 or 10k doesn't mean I have a long life ahead of me -- I'm not dumb. Anything can happen.
What I'm trying to say is narcissistic and also cliché. I'm not sure why I'm even writing this down. But I have noticed that over the past couple of weeks, running has been there for me, just as it always has been. Every time I run, I feel everything else melt away. I feel in control. I feel intense gratitude. Addictive gratitude. It's like my favourite song, 'Monument' by Mirah: "If you feel an emptiness, if you want to hide, think about the blood that's pumping, keeping you alive."
When I run, it's a huge 'fuck you' to every other problem in my life. A 'fuck you' to death. A 'fuck you' to age. A 'fuck you' to my future, when, I'm sure, at some stage, I'll have to give it up. But until then, I'm going to do it because I can.
But running without stopping on purpose? No thank you. In fact, I didn't know I had asthma until I had to run a mile for the Presidential fitness test in junior high school. I remember crying as I finished the last lap around the track.
Then, one day a couple of years later I decided to just try again. Just to see. With no one watching, no one to see me fail, I managed to run exactly one mile. Well fuck, I thought, may as well join the track team. I loved being on the team, but I hated the meets. I dreaded them so much that I only went to two of them and I came in dead last both times. But running through the trails in the woods behind the school was idyllic. Perfect. Peaceful, yet exhilarating.
I have been an irregularly regular runner for over 30 years. Even though I'm not particularly great at it, I just enjoy the fact that I can do it. That no matter how long I go without doing it, it doesn't take long to get back in the swing.
Running isn't a great way to lose weight, for me, anyway. It's kind of crap for that, for whatever reason.
For the last ten years, however, I run for one reason and one reason only: to remind myself that I'm alive. Is it the only or even the best way to feel alive? Nah, of course not. I don't have any lack of gratitude for the fact that I'm relatively young and healthy. But having watched three people say their last good-byes in recent years, going for a run is my way of fully experiencing my body. Being able to run for 5 or 10k doesn't mean I have a long life ahead of me -- I'm not dumb. Anything can happen.
What I'm trying to say is narcissistic and also cliché. I'm not sure why I'm even writing this down. But I have noticed that over the past couple of weeks, running has been there for me, just as it always has been. Every time I run, I feel everything else melt away. I feel in control. I feel intense gratitude. Addictive gratitude. It's like my favourite song, 'Monument' by Mirah: "If you feel an emptiness, if you want to hide, think about the blood that's pumping, keeping you alive."
When I run, it's a huge 'fuck you' to every other problem in my life. A 'fuck you' to death. A 'fuck you' to age. A 'fuck you' to my future, when, I'm sure, at some stage, I'll have to give it up. But until then, I'm going to do it because I can.
