I started running in seventh grade. I started running because I joined the track team. I joined the track team because I wanted to fit in. All of my friends (we were the cool-dorks) were on sports teams. Much to my dismay, I was not even talented enough to make the A or B team of volleyball or basketball. Well, the track team was in such dyer need for participants that anyone that wanted to made it. So I made it.
We ran. We ran, we ran and we ran some more. I hated it. Every step was like agony, but I so wanted to right to say I was in "Athletics" and not just PE. So I ran. And I just kept on doing it.
Years passed and I would run during tennis or cheer practice (I did make those teams...thank goodness).
I ran in college, because I often liked boys that liked to run. So I did.
I ran when RT and I first started dating because it impressed him.
I started running again after Gia was born. I started running to shed those 70+ pounds I had packed on. I started running to find that body again.
Then it just continued. Sometimes I would run because my post partum hormones were making me crazy. Sometimes I would run because I felt bad about myself. Sometimes I would run because I felt good about myself. Sometimes I would run to escape.
But I just kept on running.
This past weekend I ran the Parkway Half Marathon. At mile four my groin went out. The pain was pretty bad. And yet, I finished.
Running: I started to fit in. I continued because it was cool. I finished for me.