Picture Perfect

I sometimes curse my running career because I didn't turn out to be the runner I wanted to be. I get angry when thinking about the races I choked in and the times I unraveled in front of total strangers. They had no idea how I trained or how hard I tried every day I was out on the run. But as soon as I calm down just a little, I realize all the things that I should be grateful for because of running. I have seen some beautiful sunrises and sunsets, sometimes on the same day. I have felt the joy of a cold rain on a warm day. I have felt the sun on my back and the wind on my face. I have glided down the road and trampled through a trail or two. I remember the first time I really felt like a runner. It was a Sunday afternoon in southern Indiana, before me I had one hundred and twenty minutes of running. I still couldn't understand why people enjoyed running even with running 60 or 70 miles a week at that time. I took off running, feeling the same awkwardness that I had felt before. After ten minutes I finally put it on autopilot and felt for the first time what many people know as a runner's high. The feeling lasted the rest of the run. I came up on the last hill on the dirt road and began sprinting. I ran to my truck and immediately put my hands on my knees looking at my legs. My legs thought that they were still running. My skin was covered in dried sweat and dust from the road as the warm sun shined on my back as it began to hide over the horizon. I was a runner from that day forward.
On another run I had began to doubt why I ran. Everything in my life was going wrong and it seemed that I could do nothing right. I was angry at the world and hadn't smiled in what seemed years. I went out for a fast run. I had planned on doing 6 but when I got out there I decided in route to run 10. When I hit the 3 mile mark I was feeling pretty bad then I felt something cold hit my face. It was only one or two drops that I felt on my face on the blistering hot summer afternoon. Then it poured down. It was so heavy that I could barely see in front of me. The road was nothing but mud in front of me. I cracked a small smile and then busted out laughing. For the rest of the run I was smiling, even though the rain stopped and the heat came back (and I was muddy). I felt like crap, but that smile made me feel so good.
I guess I am happy that I had the chance to see all the stuff that I have seen on my runs, whether it was the cougar and her cub or even running up to two crackheads dealing meth out in the country. Maybe it was being chased by wild turkeys or seeing a pack of coyotes in the middle of the day. It could have been the time I seen wild goats run out in front of me on the road or the wild boar that didn't want to waste energy chasing me. It might have been the first time that I realized that racism was a real problem when some hillbillies decided to scream profanities at my friend. It could have been the friends I made and the friends I lost out on the run. But I am almost certain that it was the way I found myself and thought over all of my problems on those long Saturday and Sunday runs.