Saturday, September 6, 2008


I do not know who I am either; except for I am a runner. The people around me who think they know me are only seeing habitual behavior. My hair cut doesn't prove anything. My clothes don't prove anything. The ring on my finger means something to me; but for others, I hope it says "don't hit on me." I sit in AA meetings and say I am an alcoholic; but this really doesn't mesh with any standard description for what an alcoholic is. I don't identify with being a woman. I don't identify with my career. I don't identify with the university where I received my education. I am not loyal to any sports team. I am not registered to vote.

I am a runner. That is it. Unless you are a runner; you don't know what that means. Non-runners always want to know what I'm training for or how fast I went in some race. They know nothing of the act of running itself. I've gone years running over 50 miles a week and not racing. Non-runners think I am crazy to be out there in the cold for no apparent reason. Why? I am a runner.

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