Why Am I Doing This?

On Saturday morning, my alarm clock started to buzz insistently. I reached over to hit the snooze and saw the red numbers glaring at me: 4:00 a.m. My brain was still fuzzy. Why was the alarm clock going off this early? What was I supposed to be doing at 4 a.m.? Could I just turn over and go back to sleep?

Then I remembered, I had to meet Amy and Marisa at 4:45 to go for a 20 mile run. I slowly dragged my body out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet the "running isn't good for you" part of my brain thought, "Why are you doing this, Vanessa? You got 4 hours of sleep last night, your legs are already fatigued, and you've got a busy day with the kids today. You should just go back to bed." I sighed as I stood up and headed towards the sink. I looked at my bedraggled self in the mirror, pulled my red running hat onto my mop of hair, and started brushing my teeth. My fellow runners were waiting for me. I might as well get the show on the road.

We ran up Provo Canyon together that morning. The three of us side by side. My breathing was heavy and I had trouble making my legs move. I could feel the lack of sleep weighing on me. I could also feel the piece of whole wheat toast I'd eaten for breakfast about to come up. "Why are you doing this, Vanessa?" again came to mind.

At about mile 6 or 7, Marisa was feeling strong, so she took off while Amy and I continued our journey up the canyon together. We stopped at some restrooms at a campground to relieve ourselves. I apologized to Amy profusely from my stall: "I am so sorry about all the gas passing and diahrrea noises coming from in here!" She kindly said she didn't mind. These "runner's potty moments" have really taught me the ultimate in humiliation. Since getting married 15 years ago, I haven't even wanted my husband to know that I poo let alone pass any unfeminine noises. I always go into the bathroom at home, turn on the fan and some running water to cover up any sounds, wait until the bathroom completely airs out, and then retreat quickly as if nothing unseemly occurred in there. However, since my "runner's runs" have begun, I have endured the humiliation of others knowing when and where I poo. As I sat on the pot with Amy in the next stall, I thought again, "Vanessa, why are you doing this?"

As we continued up the mountain, we saw many other runners out "enjoying" the fresh mountain air. We ran up a path surrounded by trees. Mountains peeked out above us. There was even a waterfall. We were part of nature. When we reached Vivienne Park and turned around, we had only 8 miles to go. I felt a strange surge of adrenaline as I realized we were well over our halfway point. We could do this!

There were highs and lows on our way back down the canyon. At moments we felt like talking, at other moments, we silently endured. When we had only 4 miles left to go, I looked at Amy and actually voiced my thoughts aloud, "Why are we doing this?"

Neither of us answered the question out loud but both of us knew. We run because it is good for our hearts. We run because of the adrenaline high we feel when we cross the finish line. We run because we can eat a huge meal that night and not feel the slightest sense of guilt. We run because running keeps us sane. We run because it's free. We run because we can.