Why I run

I ran today. I ran through pain, stomach cramps, and frustration for two miles, and during the third mile I felt the way I used to when running was no different from breathing. I thought about all of those training runs last summer, about doing speed-work in the parking lot by the church downtown. I remembered how, almost a year ago, I could not run for more than 30 seconds without gasping for breath and groaning about the pain in my knees, my calves, my feet.
I glimpsed the old me, the one who was motivated to run, who got out of bed at 6am on Sunday mornings so she could slide her running shoes on and get moving before it was too humid. The old me, the girl who ran in unbearable heat, who made running a priority, a lifestyle. The girl who drank protein shakes for dessert and sat in Barnes and Noble just to read the latest issue of Runner's World.
I ran today. It's not quite the same and I doubt it will be for a while, but I am getting closer to where I was last summer. I remember running my first (and so far, only) 10K. It is the hardest thing I have physically ever done in my life. I ran around a city I'd never been to before. I ran through the woods, up and down hills, jumping over tree roots, realizing my legs were covered in mud. I saw a woman sobbing because she'd fallen and broken her arm; I stopped to help her. I ran past mile markers and water stations. During mile six I started to think I couldn't make it.
Uphill, uphill, more uphill. Finally I glimpsed the finish line, checked my iPod, and did a double take- I was going to beat my previous PR (in training) considerably. I booked it. Nothing in the world compares to the freedom of sprinting, of feeling your legs lift that high off the ground; you are flying, weightless, invincible. I crossed the finish line and collapsed on the grass; I could barely open my water bottle full of Gatorade. I couldn't believe I had finished.
I also can't believe that I feared and loathed running for my whole life until last March. Last March I decided I wanted to be a runner, and I have spent the past eight months trying to figure out exactly what that entails. So far all I know is that it involves cramps, lots of water, extensive stretching, IT band pain, spending too much money on running tights, training schedules, early mornings, figuring out what the best recovery foods are, sweat-soaked t-shirts, blisters, pushing through terrible pain, creating the perfect running playlist, lots of bananas, and excitement whenever your favorite company comes out with a new shoe.
More than that, though, it involves strength, determination, and confidence. I never thought of myself as strong, confident, or determined before I started running. Now I know I can do anything if I put the effort in and push myself. People always say running is more mental than physical, and for me, that is nearly always the case. It is the most rewarding thing I have ever done for myself.
Last November I weighed around 220 pounds. Now, a year later, I weigh around 160 pounds, and in 2012 I will weigh around 140. I will keep running. I will run a half-marathon at the end of February. I will take care of myself, keep doing all of my stretches and strengthening exercises, and seek medical attention if I am in immense pain (like I was this past fall).
You know...I only get to do this once- live. And life is a lot less fulfilling if I'm not running. It's taken me a while to realize this but it's the truth. I'm done making excuses for myself. I want to run a marathon a year from now- I will run a marathon a year from now.
Just watch me.