Why I Run

Why I Run

I didn't take running seriously until now.

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.


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

Popular Right Now

I'm A Woman And You Can't Convince Me Breastfeeding In Public Is OK In 2019

Sorry, not sorry.


Lately, I have seen so many people going off on social media about how people shouldn't be upset with mothers breastfeeding in public. You know what? I disagree.

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?

So many people talking about it bring up the point of how we shouldn't "sexualize" breastfeeding and seeing a woman's breasts while doing so. Actually, all of these people are missing the point. It's not sexual, it's just purely immodest and disrespectful.

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?

If I'm eating in a restaurant, I would be disgusted if the person at the table next to me had their bare feet out while they were eating. It's just not appropriate. Neither is pulling out your breast for the entire general public to see.

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.

Mindblowing, right? Wait, you can actually breastfeed in public and not have to show everyone what you're doing? What a revolutionary idea!

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.

Cover up. Be modest. Be mindful. Be respectful. Don't want to see my boobs? Good, I don't want to see yours either. Hard to believe, I know.

Related Content

Connect with a generation
of new voices.

We are students, thinkers, influencers, and communities sharing our ideas with the world. Join our platform to create and discover content that actually matters to you.

Learn more Start Creating

When You're With The Right Guy, He'll Take The Time To Learn About Your Mental Illness, Trust Me

If he wants to make it work and really loves you, he'll learn all of your ins and outs.


My boyfriend and I have been dating for a little over a year. The journey we've been on to get to where we are now has been one of the scariest and most fun roller coasters I've ever been on.

My mental health has come in the way of a lot of relationships, both romantic and platonic. I've never quite been able to find a way to master explaining it to people. And I still haven't. Explaining what can happen in your head, when you can barely explain it to yourself is a very difficult and often heart wrenching task.

When I had started dating my boyfriend, I was scared to tell him about my mental health. While I have gained a lot of confidence and it isn't nearly as severe as it was years ago, I know how it can get when "one of those days" comes. I know how scary I can get when I fall into a panic attack. I know how hard it can be to look at someone you love while they have a tear stained face unable to tell you what's wrong.

In the past I've tried two different things. One being that I wouldn't tell them at all and I would try to go day by day like I didn't have this cloud above my head. Once they'd see what I can get like, they'd leave. They "couldn't handle the amount of work I needed" or they felt burdened by being with me. Some would even say they "love me too much to put themselves through seeing me like that."

The other option I tried was putting it all out on the table. I had tried that once. I had told my most recent ex boyfriend everything. I laid it all out on the line, hoping that it would be different. At first, it was. He was comforting and understanding. Until it got to a point where he was using what I told him against me.

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.

He could tell from the beginning that there were missing puzzle pieces. There were walls that I had build around me that I wasn't about to let just anyone knock down. At first, I found his pestering quite rude. Until he proved his point. He had come to me one night and said he wanted me to tell him everything. No details left behind.

I kind of sat there with my mouth open. I actually tried to pretend as if I didn't know what he was talking about. Within minutes, I was spilling everything. Every crevice I could have touched base on, I did. While I thought he was going to look shocked, scared, or bored even.

He didn't.

He was looking deep into my eyes the whole time. He never broke eye contact with me. He was focused and didn't say anything, just nodded his head. After I was finished and the tears were falling, he held me in an embrace and the only words he could mutter was, "You are so beautiful and one of the strongest people I know. You will get stronger. I promise."

He's taken the time to learn everything. He's watched psychologist's lectures, he's read articles. He's done everything in his power to learn what I need on my dark times. He honestly has gotten to know me so well, I think he knows me better than I know myself.

Not only has it helped our relationship as a whole, but it's helped me learn about myself in a way that I couldn't quite do on my own. He's offered me a kind of love that I've never had before. One where I don't have to fear rejection or getting left behind.

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.

Related Content

Facebook Comments