Quite often when I mention to somebody that I’m a runner, their initial response is to say something along the lines of “oh, I ran for a while but got all these permanent injuries and can never run again.”

It’s kind of hard to respond to that.

Undoubtedly running is repetitious and involves pounding along hard surfaces. And surely I have experienced injuries myself over the past couple of years. But I’m not a martyr and I promise that if I really thought I could hurt myself by running I wouldn’t do it.

Maybe the reason people sound so defensive or concerned when I talk about running is that they think I’m being self-righteous by mentioning it. And there probably is an element of that, truth be told. I mean, I don’t go around telling people “Hey, I just put gas in my car” or “Can you believe I just emptied the dishwasher!”

So why am I even telling people about my running?

As I think about this, my guess is that a lot of the time I just can’t believe it myself. Having grown up with so many traumatic phys ed experiences, there’s a part of me that is still in awe of the fact that I can run a mile or two before I even get out of breath. Maybe just saying it out loud is something I’m doing to convince myself it’s really true!

And now that I see what’s behind it, perhaps I can learn to temper my bragadoccio. It’s good enough that I know that I can do this incredible thing and I don’t need to obtain approval or accolades. Not to mention, I don’t want people to think I’m lecturing them about what THEY should be doing.

That being said, I need to go empty the dishwasher.