WHY I RUN –  a short flight in the long run

• by Janis Chaffin

Like several million other runners on the planet, I became re-inspired to lace the sneaks after reading Chris McDougall’s best-selling book Born to Run. Returning a sense of glee to the often arduous efforts of lugging too-heavy bodies against a lifetime of inertia and saturated fats, McDougall reminded us we used to run for fun. Before that, he makes the argument we used to run for survival, often outlasting our faster prey.

Many of the reasons why I run and haven’t stopped since restarting two years ago are, of course, personal.  Guilt and grief head the list. Also, my boss insisted I actually take a half hour lunch break instead of inhaling my food while facing desktop deadlines.  I really need to thank her for that.

At least that’s how it started – with a walk around the neighborhood, until it turned into a little prance – a chance to pretend I was a runner.  My little loop took me through warehouses into family-filled neighborhoods, past an elementary school track, down a short levy path and up by the local hospital. After the first time I sprinted the last hill, I knew this was a secret weapon, my armament against bosses, authority, anger and despair. I could run away and take a trip and see nature and pretend I was a warrior and come back different and… feel better afterwards. Head was clearer, nerves were calmer, and heart perhaps a bit more kind. I began to anticipate where next I could explore and charted my adventures, gradually lengthening the runs until a half hour run stretched into two hours.

But the secret reason why I continue running six out of seven days a week along trails, beside cars, up hills, through sloughs and on beaches, barely shod, concentrating on each footfall while looking around in awe at the sky the trees the abundance of everything… why I never want to stop is because I get to do something I’ve always dreamed of doing; I get to fly.

Say what? It’s true! Eadweard Muybridge proved it in 1878, when, according to Rebecca Solnit’s fascinating book River of Shadows, former California governor Leland Stanford hired him to photograph his trotting horse “Sallie Gardner” at his Palo Alto track to see if all four legs left the ground at once.  They did. (Apparently, the late Stanford would go to great lengths to avoid losing a bet!)

So, for every mile I run, I figure I fly a few hundred feet.  Both legs off the ground, moving forward. And so, just maybe out of every ten miles I run, I fly a mile. From here to there. In the air. How’s that for fun?!

Note: I also confess to liking the neon brightness of current running apparel and don’t mind dropping two sizes without eating less.