Why I Love Running

Today is the day I've dedicated to using my blog to wax poetic about one my loves, running.  I haven't always been a runner.  In fact, up until I was almost done with college I never, ever considered myself a runner and was pretty sure people who called themselves "runners" may as well be honest and just call themselves "crazy."
Growing up, my mother was a runner.  She was the kind of runner who had to run every day - or at least it seemed like it.  She'd be up hours before I could fathom rolling over in bed, let alone getting dressed and trucking out the door, decked out in running gear.  Every once in a while she would try to get me to run, too.  I remember doing a 5K with her when I was in junior high.  It wasn't pretty.  (Side-note: it was a fundraiser for a non-profit, complete with celebrity endorsement.  I remember, very clearly, Valerie Harper, cheering her heart out for me as I - finally - crossed the finish line.  How is that the image that's stuck with me all these years?!?)
Running back in those days, and actually, well into the late '90's made me feel like I was suffocating: my throat would close up, I'd feel like my shirt was slowly sealing my esophagus shut and I could not catch my breath.  Are you seeing what it took me 20-some years to see???  Uh, yeah.  I had asthma - mostly allergy-induced.  All those years of sucking wind during soccer practice started to make more sense.  I'm mainly only allergic to three things - unfortunately those things happen to be grass, dust and pollen.  Huh - can you think of somewhere that has none of those things?  Me neither.
Fast forward a few years, a bajillion allergy shots and every combination of allergy meds you can come up with, as well as a long-standing prescription for Albuterol, and my asthma doesn't really bother me anymore.  I'm free to embrace this running thing for all it's glory.  And, man, have I embraced it.
What I love about running is that anyone can do it.
I know some of you are scoffing at that statement.  And to you, I say, find the next 5K in your town and go to it.  You don't have to participate, you just have to watch the finish line.  I guarantee that every kind of person imaginable will cross that line before the race is over.  Old, young, skinny, overweight, fast, slow, etc, etc, etc.  They are all there, giving it their personal best for that particular race.
Running keeps you honest.  If you haven't put in the time, you won't get the results you want.  You might get lucky and manage to finish the race you're running in the time you want, but it will feel terrible.  If you've put in the time (and all the race-day stars align - hydration, weather, gear, etc), you will rock that race.  And that?  Is freaking awesome.
Running makes me appreciate the moment.  Here's a photo of my view from a recent run:

I can tell you that a lot of people would look at this and think, why bother?  Grey skies.  Snow.  Stroller (holding 60 lbs of toddlers).  Phew - tough stuff.  But, you know what?  This was a great run.  I mean it, great.  Big E and Little H spent the whole time talking to me about everything we saw ("DUMP TRUCK!"), I swung by the grocery store and grabbed some sugar (so we could bake cookies when we got home), and I appreciated my surroundings (check out those mountains!).  There's not much I do on a regular basis that makes me so thankful for the mundane details of my life.  Thank god running relaxes my brain enough to let me own that appreciation.

Cheers, peeps -