Why I run

Why I run

Why do I run? I have been asked that question many times and have asked myself that question an equal number. There is no wrong answer I suppose. The answer is both simple and complex, but whether superficial or deep, the activity remains a deeply meaningful one. The passing of years and thousands of miles have added layers of nuance so that every run itself consists of equal parts selfless worship and self-indulging vanity. There are redeeming and repelling qualities to many of our habits I suspect. 

When I began to run, I ran because it elevated me and set me apart from others. I also ran to please and impress. Early influencers in my life told me that I had talent and that's really all it took. Running conferred status, and progress validated my belief in the assessments of others. Later in adolescence, but still early in my running, my reasons for running were chiefly social. I stayed in that phase for a while. It didn't matter so much then if I got better. We had fun and no one forced us to gaze inwardly so we didn't. The first taste of real, intrinsic motivation came senior year. Curiosity crept in and I wondered about where my limits might lie. I began to want more while my buddies did not. We drifted apart at practice. First they poked fun, then they got mad, then they shut the hell up. I still wasn't fully committed, but my road was narrowing. College running provided the perfect nursery for my growing internal drive. Running was still what it had always been; status, pleasure, validation and affirmation, but it slowly became something else - a creation in and of itself. An expression of who I am. Running to measure myself against others became less important and running became a way to both insulate and respond to a world that seemed more and more uncertain. 

Running has marked many occasions in my life. I ran on the morning I was married to calm the butterflies and contemplate the next phase of life. I ran on the day my children were born, filled with joy and wonder (and a little anxiety). I ran while mourning the loss of my Grandpa to cancer and a dear friend to suicide, full of grief and questions. Running offered no answers, but it was familiar and therapeutic nonetheless. 

I have connected with many amazing people through running. My best friend's dad, Larry Kallas was one of those early influencers who convinced me to try it out. He hardly ever missed a cross country meet and faithfully provided us with ice-cold Mountain Dew after we finished. In Pavlovian fashion, Mountain Dew remains a powerful motivator for me to this day. My own dad, Jon Krueger, probably planted the seed unintentionally. He had boxes of old trophies from his days as a champion swimmer tucked away in our basement. I used to take those out and visualize racing. He also competed in a few triathlons when I was very young and I recall being very curious about what it was all about. Dustin Weege was my nemesis in college. We raced the 1500 many times and he beat me every time, but no one ignited my competitive fire more than him. We are fellow coaches now, so I forgive him, but the taste of defeat is still bitter. Bill Petsch and Bryan McClusky were two dear friends I met while working at a running store and they were among the first to really open my eyes to the wider world of running. Bryan was my Boston training buddy, always ready to run and always willing to push the pace. Bill and I would discuss the deeper side of life while running, I so enjoyed those experiences! The New Richmond Running club (Jim, Jim, Joe, Jeff, Rick, etc) took me under their wings and got me back on my feet (literally and figuratively) with their collective wisdom and rock-solid good sense. Their pure enjoyment of running and communing together inspired me to reconnect with that side of my own running. Linda Keller was the first person I met who was just an absolute God-given talent to the world of distance running. Running with her was complete joy not only because of how effortlessly she ran, but how wonderfully naive she was to the process that other people had to go through to improve. She was just good. Chalmer Combellick was the most interesting person I have ever coached, and ours was more of a peer-to-peer relationship than a standard coach-athlete one. Our conversations while running would roam from running to history to politics to science and back to running - the pace picking up the whole way. Connecting with Chalmer through running was a formative experience for me as a coach but also gave me many treasured memories as a runner. My college coach, friend and mentor, Jeremy Karger-Gatzow, continues to challenge me, inspire me, correct me, and motivate me. He was the one who understood that to get me to improve he first had to fan the flames of my own curiosity. There are many others who have inspired me, challenged me and fed my desire to keep running. There are those too who I wish I could have ran a few more miles with before circumstance intervened. The older I get the more I remember to not let those opportunities pass me by! 

At this stage in life I suppose I run because I'm compelled to. Running has been such a consistent thread woven into the tapestry of my life that I don't know what things would be like without it. Running is part of who I am, I am a runner. I run to give expression to feelings that defy description. I run to connect and to be connected with. I run because I'm a fiercely motivated loner who enjoys striving to meet a standard. I run because it's a pretty trustworthy tool for identifying potential friends. I run because I enjoy feeling power and potential in my body and knowing my resolve is strong. I run because it impresses people and I'm vain enough to enjoy that. I run because I want to inspire my kids and the athletes I coach. I run to keep moving. I run because...