Running is for Crazies

Runners are crazy people.

I've heard a lot of disparaging comments lately....

“There’s no reason to run unless someone is chasing you." or "Those people are like a cult." or "Why would willingly sweat for over two hours?" or "It’s ridiculous. You're insane."

And these comments are being made by my friends. These people aren't strangers seeing me or overhearing my conversations. I loved them, but they aren't always running, or thinking of running, or talking about running. They're level of activity consists of lifting their arms and smoking or drinking. Not contemplating running marathons or eating weird health-nut foods.

Though I knew I wasn't talking with an air of superiority, every time I shared a thought on my 22 km run or about the glorious ache in my quads when I climb the metro stairs, they feel like I am criticizing their unhealthy habits.

Running a marathon at 40+ years old? I couldn’t even fathom walking 5 miles, much less running 5.

I was so unhealthy. Years of smoking and drinking and being lazy had crippled my body and stunted my spirit. I couldn't imagine anything more physically energetic than stumbling home drunk from the local pub.

Though I knew my unhealthy habits were wrong, I somehow justified them. Smoking causes lung cancer, yes, but it alleviated my stress. My rational mind knew I would never find answers to life’s problems in the bottom of a bottle, yet at the end of every stressful work day, I'd have a beer. Then another one. And another. Then one more, for good measure. Until I was stumbling home.

Exercise? I didn’t have time for that. Between working and sleeping and drinking and partying.

The more I engaged in these behaviors, the worse I became. I gained weight and had a ridiculously poor self-imagine. Yet instead of acknowledging my habits were the cause of my problems, I continued to turn to them as the solution. They were my only outlet. They were my only options.

My turnaround. Well that came when my girlfriend ask me when I was going to stop smoking. Strangely enough no one had ever asked me that who wasn't a family member. She asked me several times. Not exactly bugging me but a bit insistent. To get her off my back, I told her Feb after my birth date. And surprisingly I kept my word. I quite a month after my birthday. Then I think a week or to after, I started to run. Slow. Shirt. But I ran.

Of course running is a lot easier if you don’t smoke, so I quit buying Marlboros. Ditto for the heavy drinking every night. Same for near sleepless nights. All three of these things were holding me back. Looking back they were anchors around my neck. Not albatrosses, which would have been lighter, but seriously heavy hard iron grounding me in one spot that was going to kill me quickly and early.

I ran 5 km. Then I ran 8 km. Then I ran 12 and 18 and ... Finally I've ran a 22 km run for fun. I can do anything up to 18 km and it's a normal day at the office. Soon. I will be running a marathon. Before I knew it I had become one of those people. Those crazy runners.

It’s simple A body at rest will stay at rest until acted upon by an outside force.

Many of us are scared of change, as I have written of in the past. And when we're faced with drastic change, we will retreat to our comfort zones. Something I was very very good at in the past.

It took an outside force to shake me up and make me change my ways. Now my ways are so alien to the person I was two years ago. I run everyday. I talk about running. I advise. I train. I dream of the next run. I run an 18 km route and it's a fun run. I AM the crazy runner!



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