The Joy of Running?

When I was a little boy, I remember my grandfather telling a joke (as I remember it) of a man walking down a neighborhood street and seeing a boy sitting on the curb, hitting himself with a hammer. The concerned man asked the boy why he was hitting himself with a hammer and the boy said, "because it feels so good when I stop."

My grandfather died suddenly in 1967. He was 68. I was 7. I'm 49 now. I'm 49, running, and loving it. Some might see that as being akin to hitting oneself with a hammer. There IS a bit of that to the pleasure found it running. Oftentimes, it's not the running itself but the afterglow that comes from a good running workout that is intoxicating. But the running itself isn't always a hammer.

I've been into running before. I was on the cross country team in high school, and I'd run on-and-off later in life to get in or stay in shape. I can't say as I ever really liked running. I approached it not as recreation but as a necessary evil; a means to a fitness end. In fact, anything over 4 miles or 30 minutes was downright mental torture. I did manage to work my way up to half marathon distance in my later 20s when I had become obsessed with fitness and aerobic condition for heart health, but at no time would I have said I was experiencing the "joy of running."

I stopped running completely (or doing any physical conditioning at all) when I pulled a hamstring running in 1997. I didn't know it then but I was about to embark on a 10 year hiatus from rigorous exercise. From 1998 to 2008, I would become a sedentary, middle-aged desk jockey, gradually gaining 20+ lbs and who knows how much plaque on my artery walls?

That changed in 2009. Pretty much a year ago today I began a serious push to get back in shape. Running was not a part of that regimen yet. Ergometers, like the rowing machine and stationary bicycle, were my cardiovascular conditioning staples. It wouldn't be until mid-January that I'd find my 15-year old, stale running shoes and venture onto a treadmill.

By the end of 2009, running would be the principle element of my fitness regimen, and as the new year dawns I'm less than 3 weeks away from my first official half marathon since 1988. I'm up to around 30 miles per week training and (unlike my 28 year old self) I actually love to run. I look forward to it each day.

I can't explain it. I wish I'd had this drive and lust for running when I was 18 and running competitively. I was an average runner then. I'm still average now, competitively speaking, but back then I used to dread practice and didn't connect it with improving my performances. Today, I love it. Is it maturity, or have a really stumbled on something that was missing in my running previously: the so-called runner's high?

I can't say that running isn't without it's anguish. The discomfort hasn't suddenly turned to ecstasy. Running can still feel like an exercise in hitting yourself with a hammer. But even in those instances, oh how good it feels when you stop. It's a drug, honestly. And now I find I have to regiment my training, forcing myself to include rest days to avoid over training. Maybe at 18, we can be so physically resilient that we don't think we need to listen to our bodies. We feel immortal. We can't hear our body speaking back to us. At 49, your body screams at you. You can't help but listen. That's been a vital difference between this renewed courtship with running for fitness. There's a more immediate correlation and connection between what I'm doing and why than there was when I was younger without joints that ached or muscles that took longer to recover from injury. As a result, I actually find running to be recreational now rather than obligatory because I enjoy the reasons for running and what it does for my body and mind. I'm able to enjoy and appreciate the process now. It's something I want to do rather than have to do. I've discovered the joy.