I thought I hated running.

I thought I hated running. I remember that feeling before a race. That mixture of wanting to throw up and wanting there to be some freak natural disaster like an earthquake or tsunami so I didn’t have to run. And then that stupid gun. It shot off and my heart stopped. Gosh why did I do that? I never wanted to run in those races. I didn’t want to reach the horrible point at which I could pass out and, oh yeah, still have to run another half mile with some stupid girl like a half a step behind me waiting for the opportunity to pass me. And I haven’t even mentioned the crowd. Seriously? Somebody yelling “come on don’t let that girl pass you!” gives me no motivation whatsoever to run faster. Even the people who don’t yell anything are just as bad because they’re watching. It’s awkward when people are watching you, it’s disastrous when they’re seeing that disgusting running face that is pained, sweaty, and grotesque. Who would want complete strangers seeing that? Not me. The only relief from running cross country was the end of the race. And that is honestly is not a good enough reason to torture myself.

So for three years I did torture myself, and I was always jealous and perplexed by those people who loved running, who excelled at it, who looked like they could keep running forever and actually be happy about it. I’ve always thought those people were crazy.

But then one day (I know the exact date actually. It was September 12, 2009) I got the urge to run, I became one of those crazy people. There was a specific reason why, which for now will remain a mystery [creepy smile], but I will say that for the first time running put a smile on my face. I didn’t think that was possible.

After that I started running around the neighborhood that surrounds LFC. I never really know exactly where I’m going or how far I’m running. But I think that’s the beauty of it. When I don’t have a specific route laid out and I don’t have a watch telling me how fast my miles are, running is actually liberating. This is so contradictory to everything I’ve ever known about running. Before it was like running was controlling me and I was always fighting with it. But now it’s like me and running are working together. While I’m running, there’s nothing to distract me from my thoughts. It’s just me and the pavement. Running clears my head and gives me the chance to reflect, to plan, to pray. Me and running are good pals now, and I kind of feel bad for hating it so much before.