OK, confession time: I am a runner.
 
Not terribly scandalous, I realize, but I am just admitting this to myself. For years I said that I didn’t run because I loved to run; I ran because I love to drink wine. A drinker with a running problem, if you will.
 
But I think the time has come for me to finally accept that I am, and will always be, a runner.
 
I started running 10 years ago after my first child was born, struggling to lose the 60 lbs I’d gained during my pregnancy. Huffing & puffing along with a group of new moms, we pushed our expensive running strollers through the streets of Kitsalano whilst our babes slept in their Gortex wombs. We would stop for coffee afterwards & relieve our lactating breasts from their doubled up sports bras. I started training and competed in races, each time improving my time & feeling more comfortable in my (rather snazzy) running shoes. I ran throughout my second pregnancy & went for a run days after my son was born.
 
Once my babes were too big to sit in the stroller, I began to run alone. I tried running groups & running with friends, but preferred to take the time for myself to listen to music with really inappropriate lyrics, to either work through a problem or forget one for an hour. I run when I’m happy, I run when I’m sad, I run when I’m angry and I run when I’m overwhelmed. Although I often procrastinate or have to push myself to lace up my shoes, I have never regretted a run & always feel better afterward. Apart from my addiction to expensive running shoes, it’s the cheapest therapy I’ve ever had. And if you’ve never experienced a runner’s high, I can assure you that it’s the best feeling you can have with your pants on.
 
Lately, I’ve started running with my partner as we are training to run a half marathon in May. He reminds me that even though it’s cozier in bed on a cold Saturday morning, we will feel much better once we’re out running. And we’ll feel even better afterwards. He too is a lone wolf, but our running styles are very similar and complementary. I put in my earbuds, and we run in silence but in perfect tandem.
 
Running is my sport, my drug of choice and as close as I will get to having a religion. Running with my partner this morning, watching his strong, muscled legs as he ran in front of me, knowing he was with me without having to say a word, and the deep kiss we shared when we finished, I realized that running had become something else for me.
 
Running is foreplay.
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An amazing collection of bright women who somehow manage to work, play, parent and survive and write blog posts all at the same time. We are the BLUNTmoms, always honest, always direct and surprising hilarious.

2 Comments

  1. I also recently “came out” of being a runner too… after running 5 half marathons, I can no longer say I’m running because that’s the “only sport I know how to do”. The truth is, I can swim, I can bowl, I can do many things but I choose to run because of a lot of the reasons you listed above. What a wonderful post!

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