I started running because I liked to smoke pot.
I started running because I needed to run away from the prying eyes of school security guards and questioning parents.
In boarding school in CT, a friend and I would take off down the road, after classes, sealed joints in secret pockets. A white Ford bronco driven by the school rent-a-cops would follow us for a mile or so and then turn around. At about three miles, there was a cemetery where my running partner, a.k.a. pot smoking partner, and I would light up behind a tombstone.
After burning a few, we'd continue on for six or so more miles. We kept running because we smelled like the inside of a boogie van at a Blue Oyster Cult concert, as well as looked like we'd been looking into the sun for way too long.
But as we continued on our run through the Connecticut countryside, something funny would happen to me. Having completed our mission -- to get high -- we were no longer running from anything anymore. We were just running. And then there would be a moment when I'd feel like I was chasing after something though I could never quite figure what exactly I was chasing.
Every run had this dynamic. It would start off as running from something. It would end as chasing after something.
I no longer run from rent-a-cops in white Ford broncos. I no longer run to smoke pot. But I still have lots of things everyday that I want to run from.
Fear makes me run from things. Strength makes me chase after things. Running makes me feel strong. Running transforms my fear into strength.