Getting It: Running Away

[This piece is actually from the archives! I originally wrote it in 2004, before blogging even existed, just for myself, because it was exactly what I was feeling at the time. I've felt this way again repeatedly since then, and I was really thinking of it on tonight's 10 mile run, so I decided it was time to publish. And the last line made me smile.]

I used to walk into the gym and see the treadmills filled with people running with ease. Mile after mile, these natural athletes never seemed to tire, making the ordinary gym-goer feel like a slacker.

Where does that motivation come from? I often wondered.

And then I found out.

I got my heart broken.

So now I also lace my shoes tightly, crank the incline on the treadmill, turn up my headphones, and run like my life depends on it.

I run because I am sad, because I am confused, because I’m finding out life isn’t fair, and because it is the only activity that I can do that people see as a perfectly healthy escape from my problems.

Binge drink or pop pills and you are judged. Exercise and you are seen as “really dealing with things.”

That could not be further from the truth.

I run because it means I deal with nothing. For thirty or forty or sixty minutes, my mind and body focus only on the breath in and out of my lungs, the rhythm of my feet on the ground, the blood through my veins. Only when giving my body completely to such a strenuous activity do I feel better. After a run, it’s like my heart is too used up to do much else, include hurt.

The effect of the run may only last an hour, but I am grateful for an hour break from my thoughts. Sometimes the effect will stay with me all day, the chemicals will flood my bloodstream and I’ll be free for a whole night. I am able to sleep soundly without clawing the sheets.

Some days, when I see other runners, I want to ask, “Who hurt you? What are you running away from?” I feel like a member of a club that I thought I wanted to be in until midway through initiation.

And my body is going to be amazing. I am going to be thinner and in better shape than I had ever imagined. I will have a beautiful body and when I look at my legs and the curve of my back side, I will know I paid for it in full.

Would I give it back? Absolutely. In a second.

I would take the ten extra pounds back on to not have to run every day. I would happily have the alternative. I don’t want to run. At this point, I depend upon it for survival. I am afraid if I stop feeling the pain in my legs I’ll start feeling it elsewhere, so I run as much as I possibly can, until I am exhausted. I want to be scooped up off the floor, limp like a rag doll. That’s all sweat, not tears.

I don’t know how long I will be able to do this. Every day I run a little longer, a little further, a little faster, because I am still not over it.

I hope I don’t have to become a fucking marathoner.

Tagged as: boys, Motivation Conversations, running