Have you ever seen the thin, graceful runners on the covers of the running magazines? Well, I don’t look like that when I run. I’m 215 lbs., 6’1″ tall and I lumber. I also sweat, gasp and wheeze. I don’t like heat, either.
I’m not a Thoroughbred. I am a Clydesdale.
Last evening I ran a 5K in Fondren, a neighborhood in Jackson, Mississippi. It was the 2nd Annual Red Shoe Run (which benefited the awesome Ronald McDonald House.) It was a hot afternoon; the setting sun still heated the muggy air to a toasty 95-degrees. The course was an out and back course, running through the tree-lined neighborhood nearby. The first half of the race was downhill and flat — which was wonderful until I realized, “Crap. I have to come back and the last mile and a half will be straight uphill.”
And it was.
I finished at 29 minutes — which is not world class. But for a hot, hilly run, I’ll take it. The last bit of the race was up the hill on Duling Avenue. When I crossed the finished line, I high-fived some of my friends who were crossing, too. My lungs were gasping for oxygen like a catfish on a dock. And then I felt euphoria.
Pure joy washed over me.
I had pushed myself the whole race. I had battled through discomfort and tired legs (from my earlier PLS leg workout). I had overcome heat and hills. I came into the race with much on my mind. I finished it with the knowledge I can fight through anything.
People ask me, “Why do you run?” Well, I don’t do because I look good while doing it. I don’t do it to be seen. I run because it gives me the mental fortitude to overcome life’s heat and hills.
Yes, I am a Clydesdale. I am an awkward athlete. But I know I can push through the hard times to the finish.
That’s why I run.