Born to Run

As some of you may or may not know, I am obsessed with running.  I've considered myself a runner since I was little bitty (tag was always my favorite game). By the time I was in elementary school I was competing in summer track camps. I remember daylong track meets with my dad, where my race—the mile—was always the last event. The passion born on those hot, asphalt tracks stuck with me through middle school cross-country/track and high school cross-country. I ran varsity all four years in high school and cherished every single moment of it.  I met my best friends because of that team (shout out to my BFF Katie--SHE HUUULK!), and I gained much of my dedication, self-confidence, and strength through those years of running. 

There’s nothing else on earth that gives me the adrenaline rush running does. I truly love it—the individual but also teamlike nature of running, the fact that it's basically free therapy, how happy it makes me, how it makes my body feel. I love the pain, the burn, and the competition. I have a tendency to treat every run like a race. I like to push every single mile and every single minute. Even now, just writing about it, my pulse is up.  I’m a running addict.

In college I was going to walk on the team at Tulsa, but due to severe shin splints and the sheer overwhelming nature of freshman year, I ended up not joining the team. In fact, the first two years of college I basically quit running. Boys, booze, (and I guess class and homework) sidelined my passion, and I dove headfirst into revelry and independence. It wasn’t until my junior year that I realized something was missing from my life.  I felt sluggish, uninspired, and lost. 

When I finally slipped on my old pair of running shoes, stepped out into the early morning air, and took off sprinting, everything seemed to fall back into place. Sounds cheesy, no?  But it’s true. Running centers me; it brings me joy and gives me purpose.

I started working out again regularly after that run, and realized that besides just running, I missed competing. The butterflies in my stomach seconds before the starting gun goes off, the push and shove of hundreds of runners, the exhilarating nerve-racking sensation of racing--I'd forgotten how much I cherished it. So I started training for races. 

Since then I’ve run two 10Ks and a Tough Mudder. Unfortunately, my hamstrings have had a tendency of acting up over the past year, so I had to sit out a few races. It sidelined my efforts on my first 10K in Virginia Beach, but I still had a great time run/walking along the oceanfront course. The Tough Mudder was an awesome experience in teamwork and forced me to concede that maybe I should do some strength training (my arms were like twigs, thank goodness there were some big dudes on our team to haul me over the walls). But the most amazing race so far was a 10K  in Flagstaff, Arizona. Run on cross-country skiing trails, the whole race was at a ridiculously high elevation and most of it was run uphill. I was ecstatic. Hills, hard-to-breath air, and rocky trails? My kind of race! 

Like I’ve always done, I took off fast when the race started. If it doesn’t hurt, you’re not doing it right. I’m not sure who said that, but I’m pretty sure a runner must have coined it. I ran by these words, along with my personal mantras of “You can do it,” and “Just keep going.” Somehow I started—and ended—in first place for the women. I came in second overall behind a super speedy dude. 

It was an amazing moment. It had been over four years since I’d raced competitively, and to win was incredible. I started crying and immediately called my dad. Since I began racing (over 15 years ago) on those scalding, black tar tracks, he had been at every meet, every race, running and cheering me on from the sidelines. He was ecstatic, and his happiness doubled my already joyful mood.

That race reminded me that anything is possible and continues to encourage me to run hard and dream big.

So here I am, a better person--stronger, more understanding, more determined, and more passionate--because of running.  My body has benefited from my love of the sport, but so has my mind, my relationships, my confidence, and my entire life.  

I appreciate running more today than I ever have before. After all my hardships (some injury related, others personal), I know how much running has done for me. Running is a gift, and the running community is a blessing. The tragedy at the Boston Marathon reminded me to never take running and being active for granted. But the outpouring of love and support from runners everywhere reminded me that running brings people together and can create miracles.  

Thankfully, I've been able to run quite a bit lately, and running in Los Angeles is incredible. I live close to Runyon Canyon and Linus and I love to drive to the beach for long weekend runs.  We're in the process of figuring out which marathon to run this winter and both of us are stoked to start training.  

I encourage everyone to get out and go for a run. Even if you think you'll hate it, or did hate it the last time you tried, go out and run/jog/walk/whatever you can for just a few minutes. Be open to the possibilities that present themselves on a run; go into it with an open, hopeful mind. Forget about the stressors in your life, forget about how fast your going, forget about all the work you have to do. Lace up a pair of tennis shoes, head out the front door, and start running.

It could change your life.  

It changes mine every single day.

XOXO