In 2020, I passed a small personal milestone: a decade running ‘Chi’. Next year, I’ll be 30 years a runner.

Why do I run? It’s a good question to ask yourself. Knowing your ‘why?’ can help get you out the door when the mojo’s flagging.

I began running because of a big, hairy goal: to complete the London Marathon. I’d dabbled in jogging before, but it never stuck. A vision of crossing the finish line at 26.2 miles got me through those tough early weeks, when it all just felt so hard.

Then I discovered that running meant I could eat ALL the cake. I ran to eat flapjack. Don’t judge me.

But quietly, under the surface, something was changing.

I slept better. I felt calmer. I had a new self-confidence. Me, the girl who always dreaded PE, was a runner!

I joined a running club, became part of a community, started racing. I chased PBs and collected medals.

I began to obsess. Every footpath I saw, I’d imagine myself running along. The first thought on arriving somewhere new: where’s good to run?

When I couldn’t run, because I was injured or sick, it felt like part of me was missing.

I ran until I was 7 months pregnant. And started back again 6 weeks after my son was born.

Slowly the injuries became more persistent. The breaks more frequent. Then the dark days hit. When I could barely run. When I nearly gave up on running.

Learning how to run again, without being scared of pain or injury, felt amazing. A gift.

Today, I run because I love it.

I run to feel like a kid again.

I run to explore. I run to discover.

In the rhythm of running, all the stresses and frustrations of life shrink just a little.

But yes, I still chase PBs and collect medals. And I still run to eat cake…

Why do you run?

Photo by Francesco Gallarotti on Unsplash