I Heart Running

Yesterday morning was the Budapest Marathon. I, however, took part in a much smaller event, the minimarathon. I woke up early on race day to drink some coffee, wake up, and relax before the event. I left my flat with plenty of time to get to the race. As I was walking down Andrassy, a street that would soon be part of my running route, I realized that this was the first race I had ever done completely by myself. That's not to say I haven't run races alone before. I ran the Atlanta Thanksgiving Day Half Marathon last year by myself, but I had my family there to take me to the race and to meet me after. The feeling was a bit surprising because I hadn't expected it, but nonetheless it didn't dampen my desire to run the race. After all, I run for myself and no one else.

I got to the park where the race began with about half an hour until the start of my race. I calmly found a spot to stand that was out of the way and watched all the marathoners get situated at the start gate. They were scheduled to start fifteen minutes before me. After the start of the marathon, all the minimarathoners filled in the start lane behind the start line. As I waited among my fellow runners, the doubt that always fills me before a race began to creep in. As the gun went off and the entire body of runners surged forward, I had no choice but to suppress my doubts and go with the flow.

Once we were all out of the starting line and on the open road people spread out more and I was able to fall into a comfortable, if not slightly faster, stride. At the beginning of most races, a lot of people bolt from the starting line in excitement. I have worked hard to ignore this urge, choosing instead to run the pace that I know I can keep. In the first kilometer or two, I felt like I wasn't moving as the throngs of excited novices raced by me. Later in the race, however, I passed those same eager individuals as their legs forced them to pay for their impatient beginning.

This was the kind of run that makes all the pain, all the doubt, and all the half-hearted runs worth it. It felt great! My legs felt like they would carry me for miles. The weather was beautiful with the sun shining and a nice moderate autumn temperature, the traces of the morning cold just beginning to ebb. After the first few kilometers my legs felt good enough that realized that I could quicken my pace. I began to get a little faster after every kilometer. I picked people out in front of me and tried to either stay with them or pass them.

By the time I got to kilometer six, I was still feeling like I had barely done any work, so I picked it up a couple of notches. When I reached the seven kilometer mark with only 500 meters to go, I opened my stride up and let my legs take me. At the 100 meter mark I was in an all out sprint with the finish line in my sights. I haven't had a race like that in a long time. I shattered the time I was tentatively hoping for, and upon finishing I felt like I could have gone on longer. I couldn't have asked for a better sense of self satisfaction.

In a nutshell, this type of run is why I love running. One good day can make every bad day worth it. So, to all those who wonder why it is that I go out every day and run, rain or shine, snow or ice, now you know. After all the work, and all the miles, there isn't a better feeling of euphoria than when the beat of your heart is one with the rhythm of your stride.