"Why Do You Run?"

I've been asked many times from numerous people, "Why do you run?"

There's only one simple answer: Because I just have to.

Immediately, eyes open wide and seconds later the thought of sarcasm settles in, and they laugh or giggle. But I'm not laughing or giggling when I tell people, I just have to.

Most people don't understand the extent for why I run and what suddenly got me so crazy about it that I just can't stop. I've been injured so many times- stress fractures, shin-splints for months on end, tendinitis, ITB-syndrome, you name it, I've probably had it. If they are lucky enough to hear about my range of injuries, the next question that follows is: "So really, why do you run again?"

Because I just have to.

I know it seems that those five simple words don't really explain much, but if you're smart, you will know and understand that there is a story behind it all and how it happened and why it has stayed for so long.

The story, I admit, is a long one, and not a victorious one; I never won any gold medals or made it to the Olympics or even placed first at any of my track meets. The story is kind of sad and tragic, and long. But I won't tell you why I started running, not yet at least. It's too soon and it's a lot to put out there all at once, and I'm not sure if anyone is even listening or reading this. There's always the fear that someone isn't listening or reading because then it seems as though I've written all of this for nothing and for no one.

But I just have to.

I have to one day tell you why I run.

It's the way I feel when I paint the earth with my feet and remind it that I am still here and I still care. The way I leave footprints in the soil so the runner behind me finds my trail. The way I run in the footprints of others before me and think to myself, "I want to make my own path someday." It's the way I feel when my lungs want to explode out of my rib-cage and beg for oxygen, and at the same time my legs are pressing on-- forward, forward, forward, even though there is nothing left in them... but they somehow move. It's the freedom I feel when I've finished; no one can touch me, hurt me, make me feel bad about myself, tell me what I can or cannot do, judge me, laugh at me, or ridicule me. I'm free to be who I want to be, the person I've always dreamed of: strong, confident, and capable of anything. That is why running matters.