Why I Run

Why I Run

I didn't take running seriously until now.
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I didn’t like long-distance running before, though I was always curious about it. When I was a little girl, I was the fastest kid in kindergarten. I could even beat the boys, which earned me a badass title among the other girls. As I got older I became less of a fan. I dreaded running the two laps (which didn’t even make one mile) around the school during P.E. I didn’t think too much about running afterward until I saw my cousin run. One day I accompanied her to the park where she would do an individual training session. My older cousin has been in cross-country and track, and at that time, she was training for XC season. I watched her as she effortlessly placed one foot in front of the other, she didn’t look like she was dying. Quite the opposite, she looked like she was enjoying the run and I was fascinated by it. I wanted to try too.

My experience was different. I was dying along with her. Though, she took the time to each me how to breathe. I remembered thinking, “There’s a different way to breathe?”

I didn’t get into running until my freshman year of high school. I decided to join the cross-country team for two reasons: one, all my family members are athletes of some sort, and two I used to run in my childhood now I want to learn how to do it correctly.

So, before I started training with the team I asked my running fanatic aunt to help me out. She, along with my track, cousin and my other cousin trained me in the Rose Bowl. At first, I couldn’t even run a solid 5 minutes. It was hard getting into the motion of running and at times I wondered why am I even doing this? I don’t like the sport! Why am I torturing myself? But slowly that one minute became two, then became four and so on. Suddenly I didn’t need too many breaks to catch my breath.

But I still didn’t fall in love with it.

I tolerated it.

Three months afterward I entered my first 5K run. I’d have to run 3.1 miles. I knew before the race began that I wouldn’t be able to run those miles non-stop, much less on time. But my cousin reminded me is not about how fast you go; it’s about finishing it accomplished. Though, running fast also helps.

Thanks.

I found out I could run 3.1 miles non-stop, and I felt great about it. I was dying, but I felt accomplished.

Unfortunately, it would be a long time before I had another experience. Due to many issues arising in my personal life, I didn’t continue cross-country… nor running in general. I only stumbled across it during P.E. where I couldn’t even run 1 mile anymore, and that made me sad. I became very stressed out, I gained a couple of pounds and overall didn’t feel good. I only rediscovered running once more in college. With the amount of stress of homework, essays and test I didn’t know what to do anymore. Music, which was my stress reliever in high school, wasn’t working anymore. I needed something else.

That’s when I put on those running shoes and went to the gym. I knew there’s no way I could run after years not doing so. I’ll have to start all over. So, I walked, and walked, and walked for weeks.

I’d added some hills. Some strength training and slowly a light jog. The more I exercised, the more relieved I felt and the more I wanted to keep going. Now, after three months, I once again can run 3.1 miles even 3.50 if I’m feeling up to the challenge.

Running has become a part of my routine; and a part of my life. I run to feel good. I run because I enjoy the feeling of being sore the next morning. I run because in each gaining step I am much further from where I started. I accomplished something.

I might not be the fastest runner out there, but I have the same heart for the sport. I don’t want to let it go.

Cover Image Credit: Pexels

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There's a huge difference between being modest while breastfeeding and just being straight up careless, trashy and disrespectful to those around you. Why don't you try popping out a boob without a baby attached to it and see how long it takes for you to get arrested for public indecency? Strange how that works, right?

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If you see a girl in a shirt cut too low, you call her a slut. If you see a celebrity post a nude photo, you call them immodest and a terrible role model. What makes you think that pulling out a breast in the middle of public is different, regardless of what you're doing with it?

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Nobody asked you to put a blanket over your kid's head to feed them. Nobody asked you to go feed them in a dirty bathroom. But you don't need to basically be topless to feed your kid. Growing up, I watched my mom feed my younger siblings in public. She never shied away from it, but the way she did it was always tasteful and never drew attention. She would cover herself up while doing it. She would make sure that nothing inappropriate could be seen. She was lowkey about it.

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There is nothing wrong with feeding your baby. It's something you need to do, it's a part of life. But there is definitely something wrong with thinking it's fine to expose yourself to the entire world while doing it. Nobody wants to see it. Nobody cares if you're feeding your kid. Nobody cares if you're trying to make some sort of weird "feminist" statement by showing them your boobs.

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He knew my weak points. He knew what would hit the hardest and he was good at what he was doing.

It wasn't until my current boyfriend that I realized that isn't how love should be.

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Ladies, if he's the right guy, he'll do whatever it takes to make sure that you have exactly what you need. Not just physically but mentally as well. My guy knows the days where, I could just really use a good cry and being held for 20 minutes. He also knows when I need reassurance.

A guy that truly loves you will learn these things about you. He won't ignore you, he won't brush it off and say "you'll be fine."

Take my word on it, that's the guy you'll want to marry someday.

I know I do.

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