I joined the running community during the summer of 1999, when I had the dismal task of participating in field hockey "two-a-days," which required a good 8-12 miles of distance work along with all the sprints, drills and scrimmages that accompanied me being pretty bad at the sport.
What I learned about humility from hockey, I learned about strength from those runs, like the one and only time I finished a five-minute mile, not because anyone was counting, but just because I could.
Four years ago I moved to Boston, and have run these streets many times since. I've run with best friends, strangers, and I've even made friends mid-race. I've run alone, and alongside. Because that's how runners are. We run for us, ourselves, but for those greater purposes that connect us all - to be in the moment, to breathe, to push, to rest, and to carry on.
Running has taken me to Ahmedebad, with monkeys and bulls along the side of the road, to the Brandenburg Gate, and past so many times of struggle, stress and sorrow, because running is saying, "Yes, I will" when life makes things unsure.
So I love my fellow runners, I love the city where we run, and we will all continue on together, remembering our strength.
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