The Right Reasons
by Melissa Field

Many people launch into a running program to lose weight or to regain fitness.  They might also seek personal accomplishment or the thrill of the finish line.  I know this because I have run for these reasons, too.  And while I cannot suggest that these are the wrong reasons, I know they’re not the right reasons, either.

These reasons are like dust on a bookshelf.  Dust gets in the way of books, and books carry the real stories of our lives.  And so it is with running.  At some point, if you keep running, there will be less weight left to lose, the finish lines and personal records will begin to blur, and you’ll be left with the sound of your feet hitting the pavement, the brush of the seasons on your face, the sweat pooling under your favorite shirt, and the euphoria that comes from both letting the world go and letting it completely in all in the same moment.  You will be left with yourself.

When gratitude begins to overshadow vanity and pride, the real reasons for running begin to float to the surface.  This is not the runner’s high; this is the runner’s lifestyle.   It is inexplicably silent, calm, and comforting. It is constant freedom. 

There is evidence to suggest that running booms peak in times of economic instability and war.  And though some will propose that runners are simply running from something, I want to suggest that most of us run because we know life is built on the simple, everyday pleasures.  In fact, further evidence suggests that those who are happiest in this life are those who see the world as bigger than themselves, who put relationships over attainment, who value health over perfection.  Maybe we turn to running when life humbles us, when we are faced with the vastness of what we cannot control, and when we seek a return to the strength of the human spirit. 

This year I decided to cut back on races to devote time to Students Run Philly Style and to help train a group of Team Philly runners as they prepared for Broad Street.  For many of these runners, Broad Street was their first race.  I watched a best friend cross the finish line of her first marathon and laughed with another through a beautiful, rain-drenched half marathon in Central Park.  I exchanged a lot of high-fives, smiles, and hugs.  When someone had to stop and walk, I walked, too.  When I think back on this year, it’s not my finish line I picture, it’s everyone else’s.   And in between the footsteps, within the foundation of friendships new and old, I brushed off the dust and listened to other runner’s stories.  I also brushed off my own dust to find solace in my story. 

This is the right reason to run.