Lucky to Run

Working in social media means everyone at work knows about my blog. Which is only occasionally weird. But it also makes for easy connections with coworkers who like to work out that I might not know about otherwise.

One of those people is a lovely man named Mike. I’m terrible at guessing age, but let’s just say he’s older than me and younger than my dad.

We met at a new business pitch a few months ago, and he apparently had looked at my blog at some point.

“So you run?” he asked.

“I do!”

Turns out he’s also a runner, but at the time, he was starting to feel some knee and ankle pain but trying to run through it.

Pretty soon after that, he went to physical therapy and now is staring down surgery next week.

Whenever we see each other in the halls, he asks if I ran that morning. Usually the answer is yes–or “no, but I’m going tonight.”

Once he became completely sidelined, he started answering “Lucky.”

I usually just smile and nod, but this morning he asked, and I answered that I’d run 6 miles last night and 7 this morning, and I did realize how lucky I was.

Lucky that, no matter how much money I blow on running, it’s still cheaper than therapy.

Lucky that I have this hobby that can be as social as it can solitary.

Lucky that I have this hobby that I can take with me wherever I go, whether to Hawaii for fun or LA on a business trip.

Lucky that I can do it for as long as I want or as short as I want, as easy as I want or as hard as I want.

Lucky that it’s every bit as mental as it is physical.

Lucky that it helps me keep the weight off.

Lucky that it reconnects me with old friends and gives me new things to bond over with long-time friends.

The past three runs I’ve had have been amazing, and do truly make me feel lucky to be a runner, rather than that I’m just logging the runs on my training plan.

Last night, I left work a little after 7:15. I had 6 miles on the schedule, and I was hoping it wouldn’t get too dark out while I ran. (June, please come back.) I ran over to the West Side Highway, didn’t look at the pace, and just ran. I felt great, and when I turned to run back east from the path, I felt so great that I probably could have run another a few miles, were I not starving and were it not getting dark.

Today, I had 7 miles of hills on deck. I don’t usually run at night and then in the morning–and won’t do it often since you probably need more recovery time than that–but knew I didn’t feel like running at night again, as awesome as last night’s run was. I woke up a bit stiff, but decided to go for running up Lexington to the Queensboro Bridge. I forgot how hilly it is running uptown, and the first few miles were not easy, yet, for a run I wasn’t trying to push, I kept a pace I was really happy with. When I hit 4 miles, I was just under 36:00. My Garmin died shortly after this, so I’m just going to assume I dropped to 4:00 miles and just missed my Olympic calling.

I got home and was ecstatic that I’d gotten seven miles in before work–it’s definitely my longest run before work to date, although I’m going to break that really soon by doing 16 before work Friday.

Mike, you’re right. I am lucky to be able to run.

Four years ago, I couldn’t run.

I might not be able to run tomorrow.

But today, I can run, and for that, I am lucky.

What are you lucky you can do? Runners, what reminds you you’re lucky to be able to run?