Dear Running: You've Remained Constant In My Life

Dear Running,

No matter what, you remain constant.

When I first embarked on my running journey freshman year, I didn't know what to expect. I'd never run track or cross country, and I was a bit nervous for the majority of my first season.  Slowly, though, running became less of a hassle and more enjoyable. And by the end of cross country my freshman year, I was completely attached to running. It slowly weaved its way into my life more and more, and before I knew it, it was time for spring track.

Unfortunately, it was also time for my first injury. The thing that I'd become infatuated with over a number of months had suddenly been taken away from me in an instant.  

I felt dejected and was disappointed to miss the entirety of the spring season. Although I did not know it at the time, this cycle would repeat itself again. Sophomore year nearly mirrored freshman year, and I was once again sidelined. My frustration boiled over, and I wanted to blame it on running. The thing that brought me the greatest sense of euphoria also gave me lots of anguish. It seemed like I loved running, but maybe I wasn't meant to be a runner. I'd been ravaged by injuries for two years, but was adamant to truly elevate my habits ahead of my junior year.

But during my first two years running, I definitely felt like I had seen glimpses of talent. Going into my third year, I knew I had to be consistent, and be there for my teammates and myself. While I had certainly put immense effort into training during my first two years, there were many elements to my regimen that were not optimal. 

I began to dial in other aspects such as recovery and nutrition, hoping that running may finally be a bit kinder to me. As I learned more about running, I learned that the actual training aspect of running was only one piece of the puzzle. I made sacrifices that I normally wouldn't have made in those first two years.  Sometimes, I worried that it was all for nothing. I felt like I was on a journey by myself, and honestly felt a bit silly sometimes. 

As I read about the professional runners and their habits, I attempted to mimic these habits. It all seemed a bit ridiculous, since I was only a high school runner who had achieved very little. But I reminded myself that I was doing this because I truly loved to run. And even If I wound up short of my expectations, I wanted more than anything to be able to run every day. 

When I was injured, I knew running was still taking place amongst others, just not myself. I knew running was constant, and I strived for that consistency.  I wanted to toe the line knowing I had done everything in my power to win.  

All these years later, I've come upon a realization: There aren't many constants in life, but running is. This was never more prevalent than during these past few months. When the world around me had seemingly shut down, I knew I could still get out the door and run. I could still challenge my limits and dream of races in the future.

When everything and everyone is constantly changing, I know I still have running.