8.09 miles (total: 1489.44 miles)
As I continue to run, I have less and less trouble allowing myself to believe that I am a runner. I can tell myself that I am not a very good runner, or I can tell myself that I am not a very fast runner, but it has become increasingly difficult to tell myself that I am not a runner.
How do I know that? I’m a runner because I run. It’s simple Cartesian logic. I run; therefore, I am a runner. Even for the terminally dim-witted like me, it’s difficult to ignore the straightforward conclusion that someone who runs is a runner.
Like most runners, I have evidence. I have proof. If anyone were to challenge my right to call myself a runner, I would show them this Bored Runner running blog. “See? I ran this many days, this many miles today, last week and that many the week before. I am a runner.” As I accumulate miles, I confirm for myself that I am a runner. But am I an athlete? There is still no easy answer.
What I mean by being an athlete is that it is not about miles run, or times. Being an athlete is about how you encounter the world. I could call it WonderWoman/SuperRunner/Whatever... I picked an athlete. Maybe the first step is changing the way you view effort. For an athlete, effort is not to be avoided, it is to be sought out. Times of effort, even extreme effort, are to be nurtured, they are to be sought after - they are special. There is nothing quite as satisfying as giving all one has to give. Effort is that magic elixir.
So which one am I? Still many more running days to figure this one out.
For now, I will just take the hard 8 miles.
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