(Credit goes to Julissa for taking this awesome picture.)
I'm not fast or can run for exorbitant amounts of time, but I still love it.
However, as I was running today, I started thinking about why I run.
I ran cross-country for a year during high school and I sucked.
But I wanted to start running.
I didn't start running because my parents made me or because I thought boys would like me more if I started. I ran because I wanted to be better slash feel better about myself.
The race has already started. Sweat is pouring down my face and the sun is beating at the back of my legs. I stretch my long legs as hard and as far as they will go and I pass the finish line. I look back expecting to see no one behind me, but in fact, there are a least six girls still running their guts out. I almost had a heart attack. That never happens. I'm always last, but this race was different and I knew it.
That was the moment I knew why I ran.
I ran because there's nothing like looking back on three miles and thinking "DANG! I ran that!"
It fills me with an inexplicable sense of pride.
That's why I ran.
Then I realized something else. I might have ran for that reason back in high school, but am I running for that same reason now?
The answer would be: No.
I need to jump back on the band wagon and run because I want to.