Why She Runs

Some people blog for accountability. There are bloggers who share their organizational goals, running goals, dieting goals, and every goal in between in the hopes that pressure from their readers will keep them on track.

I am no such a blogger.

First, there's only two of you who read this, and frankly, I don't trust you to come beating my door down if I fall off the bandwagon.

Second, I put enough pressure on myself for thousands of blog readers.

So, I've never blatantly shared on here that I am training for a marathon . . . until now. And, it may or may not surprise you to know that I was training for one last year.

See what I mean?

What if I had told ya'll to hold me accountable to running last year's White Rock Marathon, then I got injured (true story) and had all tens of ya'll breathing down my neck wondering why I wasn't on track to run my race?! I would have run myself straight through the tendinitis and strained hamstring into the grave.

So, thank goodness I didn't tell ya'll I was a little running fiend last year and instead let myself take a break and heal.

This year, however, with SuperFeet insoles for my ankles, a fabulous physical therapist for my hamstring and a roll of duck tape to hold me together running is going great!

Well, as good as self-inflicted torture can go.

Some people claim that they feel alive when they run. The Chariots of Fire runner claimed he felt the pleasure of God when he was running.

I, on the other hand, mostly just feel like I'm dying and like God is teaching me a great lesson in discipline and perseverance and endurance through the trial of running.

When I start off I'm always listening to Kari Jobe or Hillsong and running feels like worship. But, three miles in and I'm blaring the beats of Miley Cyrus, Boys Like Girls, Beyonce, Kelly Clarkson, Pink and others that I can't believe I'm admitting to just to keep my feet going. (You know you sing to Katy Perry in the shower, so stop looking at me like that!)

Because, in all honesty, I'm slow and long distances hurt. But, I keep going to bed early on Friday nights, getting up before dawn on Saturday morning, and running through more streets in Dallas than I even knew existed.

Why? WHY!?

Not because I feel alive while sucking air and sweating buckets. Not because I just want to eat ice cream and not gain a pound (okay, that's partly true). But because if other people can run 26.2 miles, then gosh darn it so can I!

So, you want to know what this all boils down to? I run because I'm stubborn.

Which is exactly what my Dad told Danny when he asked permission to date me.