Running is all about the times. Sure, other things matter but the times are what define you. The times are what tell you whether you really have done your best. Whether it was worth it. Whether you took to the starting line one person and reached the other line someone different, better.
The times tell the story.
Like the time you decided you’d stop making excuses and get out the damn door. Or the time you ran an entire mile and then a second and a third without stopping. Or the time you ran and didn’t want to stop.
There may have been a time when you found yourself holding on to the pace for dear life or the time you took the pace and it scared the life right back into you. That time you signed up for the Speed Run and it was at the track. And the time you walked off the track and realized the only imposter there was the version of you that didn’t believe. There was the time you ran on a day that screamed you didn’t have to because of rain or wind or heat or work or too many beers or because you just didn’t have to. And the time you ran and ran further and ran faster than you ever had before.
That time you looked around mid run at the people you were with and realized there may not be matching uniforms or a fight song or anything other than the run that brings you together but they are your teammates. That time you knew those teammates you run with had become a part of your family.
That time you climbed onto the roof of a big rig because you had to cheer as loud and as crazily as you could for another runner.
That time you ran for no reason other than you run – because you are a runner.
Yeah, running is all about the times.
And sometimes those times have to do with the numbers on your watch.
But usually they don’t.