Personal Narrative: My Running Cross Country

The impression that most people get about my running cross country is that I'm always doing it. This assertion is actually not true, but it certainly seems that way to outsiders (those that don't run), and even I start to believe it sometimes. My training happens like clockwork, a routine that is both dependable and comfortable. Six or seven days out of every week I put on running clothes and hit the streets, sometimes training twice in one day if I need to get a certain number of miles in. I have run on my birthday and on major holidays; I ran the morning before I graduated high school and in three different states during a summer road trip with my best friend. My family celebrates Father's Day by going on a long run together, and I cope with difficult moments in life by lacing up my shoes and hitting the roads. I have ditched

Even people that consider themselves non-runners are willing to agree that jogging a few miles has a magical power, a relaxing and mind-clearing effect that nothing else can give. With people willing to admit this fact, it still perplexes me as to why people would not enjoy a sport where you get to experience this euphoria every day. Perhaps the dissuading factor for some is the gap between an easy jog and a gut-wrenching workout. Some say it hurts too much, that they could never race three miles. I agree. Racing hurts way too much; for twenty minutes every week I subject my body to more pain than sanity tells me I should. But maybe that's just it. Maybe cross country runners are all a little crazy. I would be hard-pressed to find a runner unwilling to admit that. Like all true madmen, though, we wallow in our insanity. We run when the weather is lousy and when every muscle and joint in our body is aching. We run not necessarily from one place to another but simply to be running, and take pleasure in the fact that nobody else will ever understand—until they go crazy