Word Perv

At home, tacked to the bulletin board in my kitchen is this:

It is, to some extent, my mantra. You see, running is such an integral part of my soul, of my being, of my very identity. If I’m in a bad mood, tired, sick, frustrated, angry, depressed, worried, hung over, or scared running is my escape from it all. I lace up my shoes and head out, pounding the pavement for a few miles or hours, until I’ve run far enough to clear my head. If I’m in a good mood, happy, elated, in love/lust/like or satisfied, running adds to those good feelings.

Running is about getting up out of bed on a cold morning, when it’s still dark and everyone else is curled up sleeping. It’s about running in the rain, the snow, the ice, the heat and the humidity. It’s about feeling your muscles scream and cramp and beg for mercy, only to push them one more mile.

And running is about sacrifice. After a recent hash run I bore the mark of such sacrifice. During the run I slide down a steep ravine and then later slipped on the catwalk we were running across (it was raining and very slick); I was caught from behind by a fellow hasher, but I couldn’t get my footing on the wet metal grate. The next morning I discovered this lovely shiner:

And yet I wear this bruise as a badge of honor. As a sign that I am a runner. Of course it doesn’t stop there.

I’m currently looking for a race to run on my upcoming vacation (Hawaii in January to celebrate my 30th birthday). I don’t care the length of the race, though I’d like to do something between a 10k to half marathon preferrably, just so long as I complete a race while I’m there. And I want to run a race at every vacation destination I hit in the future.

But this is just the beginning of the obsession.

This weekend I mailed my deposit for what may be the most amazing race I’ll ever participate in. In 2011 I’ll run The Last Marathon in Antarctica. Yes, dear friends, you read that correctly: Antarctica.

It’s hard to imagine planning something so far in advance - I often don’t know what I’ll be doing next week, much less 2.5 years from now. And yet, already I’m excited about the prospect of doing this. The number of people who complete marathons is less than 1% of the population. The number who complete a marathon on Antarctica? Even smaller. There are few of us who are willing to subject our bodies (and our wallets!) to such an event. And yet, I have no doubt this will be one of the most amazing things I do.

Is this sacrifice worth it? Absolutely. Because ultimately, I am a runner.