Why do you run?

As I was doing up my laces the other day, my daughter asked me why I run.

To be honest, it’s not something that I’d really stopped to think about.

I started running when I went to university. Before then, I’d played team sport and walked or scrambled up and down hills and gullies on the farm to round up sheep so there didn’t seem to be any need.

It was then a bit of a shock to move to the city and discover I couldn’t enjoy uni hall food without also upping my activity. Running was cheap, a great way to discover new places, and also gave me the sense of space and movement I missed.

It also gave me a most salutary lesson that has been particularly relevant recently.

On a return visit to Christchurch years ago, I decided to run a loop around the Rapaki Track. It is a pretty brutal uphill climb before meandering around the hills overlooking the city.

I set off well and I was on my way back when I passed an old gentleman also out for a run. Even now, with a few more years under my belt, I would still swear he was at least 90.  I also say run, he was taking the smallest steps so it was more of a shuffle.  I remember marvelling that he was still making the effort.

However, not long after, my lack of training, and perhaps some jet lag, (I’m sure there were lots of other reasons as well!) hit hard. I ran into the ‘wall’ and it wasn’t pleasant. As I was walking home, the elderly gentleman overtook me.

As I had my tortoise and hare moment and watched him disappear over the brow of the hill, I was struck that even the smallest steps in the same direction help to keep you moving forward.