Chasing the flame.

The thing about running is that it is so accessible, so primal, so essential.
When you run you inspire others and when they run they inspire more.
That is how we run - inspired, calm, with grace.

I checked over my Manitoba Marathon registration form today after I got back from a twenty-mile sweatfest to Charleswood and back. To be honest, I wasn't a hundred percent sure I had actually registered and needed to double check. 

My favourite question on the reg form is "Why are you running?"

I've run the race twice before. I don't remember what I wrote the first time but two years ago I put down a slogan that I'd seen on a sign from a marathon that had been run in the southern states by a friend of mine that summer. I don't recall where, but it had been a place that been having trouble with some serious tornadoes that year, and the sign read, "Because tornadoes are for pussies." So that was my reason for running that year.

The question is a good one. Why run? Why train and put yourself through twenty-six miles of pavement? The Manitoba Marathon is always on Fathers Day so I imagine a lot of people respond that they're running for their dad. Or they're raising funds for cancer research. Or just because they can.

These lengthy foot races, I'd say anything the equivalent of a half marathon or longer, require a mental game that zeroes in on patience, perseverance, grace, and, I would say, love. If you're spending over three hours out there, running, just running, it's impossible not to have your mind wander. I know I've continually had zen-like experiences on long runs, most intensely when I found myself scaling mountains in the Rockies two summers ago on a 24-hour, 125 kilometre beast of an ultramarathon. The physical exertion, I think, allows you to just focus on moving forward, sweating out pettiness and inconsequential worries, and gives you a headspace where you can hash out your life. Where are you going? Well, you're going to finish line. But you can visualize where you're off to after that as well. 

The running circle, I have to say, I have yet to infiltrate. I'm a runner, sure, but beyond the friendly nod to other runners on Wellington Crescent, I'm not really part of that group. But it doesn't matter, because on marathon day, it's all inclusive. We all belong there, as runners, volunteers, and cheerers-on. It's a day of accomplishments and friends.

Imagine, though, on race day, how many people are finding their zen place somewhere between mile ten and twenty-five, accessing the recess in their brain where they can just let go and giver' shit. Imagine how many of those people are putting pieces of their lives together, coming to revelations about decisions and mistakes they've made, things that have happened to them, good and bad. Maybe that's part of the reason why marathon days are such good days. That many people feeling at peace at one time can only be a force for good.

This is also, perhaps, why the Boston bombings this year carried such a hefty sting to them. And also why the stories you heard coming out of the smoke and debris at the finish were stories of courage and bravery and love.

This year, for whatever reason, I wrote down that my reason for running was, "Chasing the flame." I don't know what I was thinking several months ago when I registered, but as far I'm concerned now, that's as good a reason as any for hacking out a marathon.

To all the others chasing the flame next weekend, I wish you all the best. Let us run together, love together.