A Reason to Run

The familiar click signals my alarm clock is about to blare a mixture of static and KPRS, Kansas’ top black radio station. I brace myself.

Whiiiiirrrrrrrr BOOM BOOM BOOM "…Yeah I come from a place where ain’t nobody know my name…" Whiiiiirrrrrrrr

I groan and turn over. I’m only gonna hit the snooze twice this morning…

My clock reads 6:50am; I hit the snooze.

Five minutes later…click the WHIIIIIIIRRRRRR Dun dun dun "All the single ladies, all the single…" WHIIIRRRRRRRRRR BZZZZZZZZZ WHIIIIRRRRR Dun dun dun "WHAOOOO WHA AH OOOOOHHHH!"

Snooze button

This is how my morning usually goes until about 7:15 or 7:30 rolls around…it depends on when I can no longer stand the tuned out radio and the mix of music and advertisments. Usually I’ll get up when a rap song come on. I hate rap.

I sit up at 7:17am. I rub my eyes and stretch out my back by pulling on my arms. I can see light peaking through my blinds.

I turn my heater off and put some socks on then head to the bathroom.

A few stretches and a petting session with my cat later, I’m putting on my Nike tennis shoes and lacing them up.

It’s a ritual that holds a mix of dread and anticipation for me.

I pop in some ear buds and set my ipod on shuffle. Then I head down the stairs.

My mom is holding a glass pot over her green mug pouring herself a cup of our extra dark coffee. The pot is full and fresh but I know it’s the second one of the morning.

"Heading out?" She says.

"I’ll be back in about twenty minutes! Don’t lock me out again…I hate waking Victoria up." It’s a Tuesday but my twin sister doesn’t go to college like I do. She dropped out in favor of working full time to save up for her own place.

"Put something warm on your head, Steph! It’s 41 degrees out there."

I roll my eyes and unlock the front door.

"I’ll be fine Mamma. See ya!"

I shut the door behind me before she can protest.

The brisk November air slaps me in the face. It almost takes my breath away. For a second I consider going back in for a hat like my mom suggested.

Instead, I take off sprinting. Not the best start to a long distance run, but it’ll warm up my stiffening muscels.

I time my steps to the upbeat music. Don’t Blink by Relient K is playing and I find myself mouthing to the words as I head down the familiar route.

∞

I used to run down these sidewalks religiously in Junior High. Back then, if I wasn’t otherwise occupied, my spare time was spent excersizing.

I needed to be the thinnest girl in my class. No. In the school.

Back then I was obsessed with being in shape. I counted every calorie, I refused to eat sugar or drink anything but water.

I ran because I knew the cardio activity would burn calories the fastest. I had no idea how to run long distance however.

I ran in sprints. As far as I could, refusing to stop until I felt lightheaded. Only then I would stop, catch my breath and start again. I can remember a late summer night sprinting around the culdasac near my house determined to run the circle twenty times before the sun went down. It was my second run of the day. I stopped at the ninth round feeling sick. I recounted what I had eaten earlier that day wondering what might make a reappearance.

An apple, an egg, and…and…did I eat a few pretzles?

I hoped I would throw those up. I hunched over preparing for the worst, but nothing happened. I was shaking and cold sweat was forming on my upper lip.

Multicolored dots began to fill my vision, but seeing as I wasn’t going to puke, I kept going.

A normal person would have stopped and gone home to rest. Feeling like that after a run isn’t exactly healthy…but I wasn’t running to be healthy.

∞

I’m outside of my neighborhood now. Even in the early morning, even in November, the sun still provides me with much needed warmth.

A shimmering layer of frost glitters over the fields outside of my neighborhood. Everything looks so clean and fresh.

The air is crisp, clean, and sharp in my lungs. I swallow trying to keep the raw feeling from making it difficult to breathe.

I’ve fallen into a good pace. My breathing is regulated but uncomfortable and I can feel my muscels working to push and pull my weight over the rolling hills. I clench my core so I can make sure every part of me is getting a work out.

I wave at cars as they pass by. Some of the drivers wave back at me. Of course, at this time in the morning, I sometimes wonder if I am a distinguishable obstacle from the darting squirrels.

A red volkswagon barrels by me…a little too close for comfort. My body tenses up and I lose my rhythym. I am not annoyed. I’ve been on both sides of the road. The driver trying to avoid those "irritating runners" why don’t they just find a sidewalk? And the runner, knowing that there are particular running routes are worth irritating a few drivers. I try to run in the grass so I don’t create too much of a hassle for drivers, but sometimes the ditches on the sides of the road are dangerous.

A few minutes late a white minivan moves to the other lane just to make sure I feel safe. The woman driving appears to be in her forties though she is also in good shape. She is wearing a neon green sweat suit that makes her dark brown hair stand out. Large black sunglasses hide her eyes but I can see her pink lips are pulled back into a bright smile. She rolls down her window to wave and cheer for me.

"Way to go!" she calls loud enough to be heard over my earphones. "Wooooooooo!!!"

I love runners. There is a sense of comraderie between runners. Especially long distance runners. We know how hard it can be to get up the motivation to get out there and go. We know how a little encouragement goes a long way.

I smile and wave back at her thankful for the millionth time for the advice a coach in highschool gave me.

"Make sure you run on the left side of the road." Coach Chavez said with a laugh to my cross country team. "I don’t know about you guys, but if I’m gonna go being hit by a car…I want to see the face of my killer."

We laughed at the time, but now I have learned to take his advice seriously. Not only for the close encounters…so you can avoid the cars that may not notice you, but also for the encouraging smiles and waves from fellow runners.

∞

In high-school, I ran cross country. I was pretty good at it too. I had never considered running long distance as a sport before. But during my eighth grade year at a track meet, a coach pulled me aside after I had gotten third place in the mile.

Coach Sheets, who coached both Jr high and High School Cross country—I went to a combined school—had straw colored hair that had a life of it’s own. In fact, everything about her seemed to have a life of it’s own. The way her arms crossed over her chest leaving only her finger tips free to pound on her forearms, just like the way her hip jutted out to the side and the toes of left foot pressed into the grass uncomfortably close to my head as I laid down to catch my breath after the race.

Her fluffy curls blotted out the sun as she leaned over me and stared hard into my pale face.

"Have you ever considered running cross country Steph?"

I took a deep shaky breath. I was still very weak considering my calorie intake never surpassed 1000 a day. I had tried going three days without eating just that past weekend claiming I was fasting for "lent".

Whether or not coach Sheets knew of my anorexic habits will always be a mystery to me.

In some ways, I think she knew I needed to learn about being healthy and she believed firmly that joining her cross country team would do just that. In other ways, I think she really did see some talent in me.

"You have a natural gift for running long distance." She said squatting down next to me and fanning my face.

"I think cross country is a good fit for you. We can teach you how to pace yourself and get more out of the energy you are expending."

Another girl came to stand by me. I recognized her as the cross country star in our school. Her name was Hannah Olsen, a sophomore that year. In the fall of my eigtght grade year, a poster with a picture of her was hung up in out gym. Everyone was supposed to sign it with encouragements. She was going to state that year. I remembered wanting to be like her. She was short but she looked strong. I knew Coach Sheets had been training her as well.

"I haven’t seen natural talent like that since watching Hannah run the mile in Jr. High!" She said jabbing Hannah in the ribs.

Hannah smiled at me, "You should join!"

I looked back and forth between them.

"I’ll think about it." I wheezed.

Sure enough, the beginning of that summer, I began training with the highschool cross country team.

Something I perhaps cared for more than being skinny was being admired. If there was something I had a natural talent for, something that someone recognized in me as worthy of working with…I was gonna give it a try.

Back then, I ran everyday: after school, before school, on the weekends…

I no longer had the option to skip meals. I began to eat much healthier. Even more than that, I found I could eat almost anything I wanted…even the dreaded CARBS…and it never made a difference.

I trained under Coach Sheets and Coach Chavez. They ran us hard. I ended up going to state as a freshmen, what’s more I made All-State.

The week before state I had my poster hanging up in the gym. I watched the Jr. High students sign my poster and smiled knowing I had accomplished my goals.

What I remember from that year is impressed parents, admiring younger classmen and peers, and a swelling feeling of pride.

I never wanted to stop running if it meant I would be admired like this all the time.

I quit Cross Country after my sophomore year. I had alot of running related injuries--shin splints-- and the high expectations I had formed for myself my freshman year left many people, including myself, disappointed when the following year's results weren't quite as spectacular.

If I wasn't being admired, why run?

∞

I leave the main road in favor of another neighborhood. I'm breathing heavily but I am starting to get a second wind. This rising sun casts my shadow on the road beside me. I look strong and lean.

Where the sun hits, I can see the frost beginning to melt. This time of morning, the low sunlight gives the colorful leaves a firelike feel. Everything is alive and burning with potential energy.

I let my long stride and momentum carry me down a hill. I resist the temptation to spread my arms out and pretend I am flying.

A slight breeze dries the beads of sweat that are forming on my hairline.

I am no longer cold; exhertion is keeping my blood pumping and my internal temperature is rising.

I pass by my friend's house. We ran Cross Country together. In fact, I think it was the one thing I was better at than her. I wave at her sleeping house.

A group of kids are gathering just past her house at the end of the street. They all have their backpacks on. A few of them are sitting on the sidwalk across from me.

I always wave at them...but they just stare at me.

I like to pretend that they admire me. Maybe they think I'm some sort of olympic runner training in the brutal cold so early in the morning.

They probably just think I'm a health nut...

∞

The beginning of my Senior year in highschool was rough. My boyfriend of four years and I had broken up the summer before. It was a "mutual" decision, but it hurt like hell. I knew I was going to be seeing him everyday that year-- we were both on the student councel--maturity in the situation was vital.

But how does one go about getting over something like that in such a short amount of time?

I had heard somewhere that the best way to get over something like that is to go try new things. Live through new experiences...surprise yourself.

I decided to train for a half-marathon.

"Hey Lauryn, you feel like training for a half marathon with me this summer?"

She responded with the expected enthusiasm.

"Girl, if you're in, I'm in!"

We trained HARD.

I can still remember the sweltering late August afternoon that Lauryn and I decided to go for seven and a half miles.

We ran on the open road with fields on either side. The cicadas were deafening...even dizzying...or was that the heat?

Mirages made the endless hills seem steeper than they were.

I remember my back aching and head spinning and the thick humid air refusing to be stirred by a breeze.

Schnolp schnolp schnolp schnolp schnolp...

Our footfalls were in perfect sync with our ragged breathing.

I felt like I was withering away...but we knew we couldn't stop. Too far out of town for cell phone service, we knew the only way back was on foot.

I think we stopped at a building when we got back to the main road for water...but I can't really remember...the whole thing is a haze to me now...

We decided to train inside after that.

We did end up running the half marathon together...finishing at approximately two hours and twenty-three minutes.

I was proud of myself. It's something I brag about to this day. I even brought it up smuggle to my ex.

I think he was impressed.

I ran a half marathon the next spring as well. The effect wasn't as exciting that time around and I got my shin splints back.

I quit running for awhile after that.

∞

My favorite part is coming up...a good song is playing too. I'm doing little dance moves with the song as I run up the sidewalk.

There it is, the little pond with the willow tree that gracefully glazes the water with it's leaves.

Tall cattails bend backwards in the breeze obscuring the pond.

It's almost as if it's sighing and stretching, preparing for the day ahead.

I smile as I pass by every morning. The earth is so beautiful this time of day. It's worth it to get up and watch the earth wake up.

I head out to the main road one last time.

This road is really busy because a new school was built over the summer.

Traffic on this road makes in impossible to run on the sides. So I hop over the ditches and run up a hill onto an elevated plain of grass the runs alongside the road.

Up here I really do feel like an olympic runner.

The sun casts my shadow over the cars and makes me seem larger than life.

I can feel their stares as the tired parents drive their kids to school, the office workers head in for another day, the college students floor their gas pedals so they won't be late to class.

I wonder if they watch me with envy, with admiration, or maybe with longing?

I want to tell them this...

I run because I want to.

I don't run because I want to be skinny.

I don't run because I want to be admired.

I don't run because I'm looking for a way to impress myself or get over anything.

I run because I love the way it feels. I love the way I feel afterwards. I love having a little time every morning just for myself to think and just listen to music. I love watching the earth wake up everymorning. I run because it helps me stay focused in school and it gives me energy to keep going everyday.

I run because it makes me feel good about myself...

I turn back into my neighborhood.

Almost finished

My muscles are beginning to shake with exhaustion and my breathing is starting to become ragged...but I still feel strong.

This is how it feels to push yourself, Steph

I start sprinting.

I can see my house now. I pump my arms and open my stride. Each breath is short matching with my pounding footsteps.

And finish.

I gasp for breath and clasp my hands over my head so my lungs have more room to fill with air. Even in this exhaustive state I can already feel the endorphins working in my blood.

I stretch out my legs and back and smile...

Goodmorning world