Getting Back to Running

A student of mine . . . and avid blog reader . . . reached out to me recently with an interesting question.

She's an avid runner, and apparently she's been reading my blog for some time. She noticed that I used to write quite a bit about running, particularly the various races and fun runs I participated in, but that those posts have largely disappeared.

She wanted to know why. Fair question.

If you've followed this blog for any length of time, you may remember that running used to be a fairly regular topic. I'd sign up for a 5K, occasionally something longer, and then write about the experience. Sometimes the posts were about the race itself. Sometimes they were about the people I encountered, the things I observed, or whatever happened to be running through my head while I was running.

Pun intended.

But there were actually a couple of reasons I wrote about running so frequently, and neither had much to do with being a particularly accomplished runner.

The first was that I was working on a book. Some of you may remember Sunset Perfect, a novel I spent considerable time developing. I found that writing about my experiences running, particularly the people, places, and little observations that accompany these events, helped me develop my writing. The race reports gave me opportunities to practice describing settings, developing characters, and telling stories about otherwise ordinary experiences. The main characters were going to be avid runners, so it helped me set the stage for writing that.

However, as you may know, I've put Sunset Perfect on the shelf. And with it went some of my motivation to write about running.

But there was another reason.

My son was hit by a car while running. Worse, the driver didn't stop. It was a hit-and-run. I won't pretend that experience didn't change the way I think about running. It did. There's something particularly unsettling about having your child hit by a car while doing something as ordinary, healthy, and seemingly harmless as going for a run. We encourage our kids to exercise, to get outside, to be active. Running is supposed to be one of those things we celebrate.

And then something like that happens. It it rocks your world. I still remember that call. 

Suddenly, what once seemed like a simple recreational activity carries a different emotional weight.

I didn't stop running altogether. But I certainly lost some of my enthusiasm for races, fun runs, and the various organized events I once enjoyed. I don't know that I made a conscious decision to step away from them. I think I just gradually did.

Which brings me back to my student.

Her question made me think about something I hadn't really considered in a while. I used to enjoy those races. I enjoyed the atmosphere, the people, the occasional competition, and even the ridiculous little rituals that accompany getting up far too early on a Saturday morning to run several miles only to end up exactly where you started.

I've decided to participate in a Thanksgiving fun run this year.

Nothing particularly ambitious. I'm not training for a marathon, chasing a personal record, or entertaining any illusions about becoming a competitive runner. I just thought it might be nice to get out there again, enjoy the experience, and perhaps rediscover a little of what made those events enjoyable in the first place.

Thanksgiving seems like an appropriate occasion.

After all, it's a holiday that encourages us to reflect on the things we appreciate, and I've come to recognize that some of those things are remarkably easy to take for granted.

I don't know whether this Thanksgiving run will rekindle my enthusiasm for racing. Maybe it will. Maybe it won't. And I don't know whether I'll ever return to Sunset Perfect. That's another unfinished race, I suppose.