Am I?
I never used to do so much running. Back in high school, I was a sailor, and ran for fun. The cross-country coach tried very hard to recruit me onto the team, and promised that I would shave several minutes off my running time if I joined, but at that time, I already had my plate full with sailing and dance, so I declined his incessant offer as politely as possible. I was always above average in terms of my running speed compared to the fitter half of my peers, but I was never fast. It didn't matter to me anyway, since I only ran recreationally.
It was only in the year of military training (right after I graduated and right before I came to Penn) that I started caring about my running speed. We had to take physical proficiency tests, which included a running component (1.5 miles, or 6 rounds around the track). In order to get a "Gold" level for the test you had to run within a certain time. The women's timing was easily achievable, but I felt that it wasn't enough to just get a "Gold" based on women's standards; I wanted to aim for the men's standards (running under 9min 44s for 2.4km or 1.5mi, which is roughly a 6.5 min/ mile pace). And eventually, after several months of training, I did it - I ran 1.5 miles in 09:43, in a 6.48 min/ mile pace. That was probably the proudest moment in the running-related aspect of my life.
When I came to Penn in 2008, I decided to try distance-running. In less than a month of arriving in Philly as a freshman, I decided to sign up for and run the Philadelphia Rock 'n' Roll Half-Marathon at the end of September. That would be the furthest distance I had ever run; the furthest I had run before that was just 6 or 7 miles probably. And so, without any training (except going for leisurely somewhat-long runs of 6 to 8 miles on an every-other-day basis), I ran my first 13.1 miles (21 km). I was so sore for several days after that, but that was the second proudest moment in the running-related part of my life.
At the beginning of my sophomore/junior summer at Penn (2009), I fractured my left foot. Because I refused to stay inactive and went walking everywhere on my crutches (even going hiking in Japan, up and down a volcano on crutches), I took 4 long months to completely recover (instead of the predicted "3 months at most"). During this time when I couldn't run, I worked out any other way I could think of -- mostly weightlifting. I gained a lot more muscular mass during this time. I think that was when my running really deteriorated. I never really ran quite as fast after that.
Over the past year, I slowly eased back into distance-running again, even though I was now concentrating more on Body Combat, and on becoming certified as a Body Combat instructor. All the time, I was toying with the idea of pushing my limits and doing a marathon, but I had always put it off, thinking, "I don't need to do this," or "I had knee injuries before, I can't do this, or I'll injure my knees." But they were all excuses. In summer, my mom passed away from cancer. I thought of all the running medals I wanted to show to her, but it was too late. And for some reason, that was when I decided to do it -- I decided to run my first marathon in memory of her. I wanted the pushing of my very limits to be meaningful, and this was it. I decided to fundraise for my marathon. In the end, I raised over $1,100 for the American Cancer Society. And now, this marathon is drawing near -- in less than a month (Nov 20), I'd be running the furthest I had ever run. I'd be realizing one of my dreams.
And now every time I run "the longest run I've ever run" (which for now still stays 17.3 miles), I think of my mom, and I feel close to her. I know I don't have to do anything to make her feel proud of me, but when I feel proud of myself, of achieving something I didn't know I could achieve, I smile, and I know that she's smiling back at me.
That's why I run, and run, and run.
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