I’ve had a relationship with running for over a dozen years, and we have had our share of ups and downs.  I can compare it to my relationship with New York: love, hate, and everything in between, depending on the day.  Both running and New York demand things of me that I didn’t know I could give–they challenge me to be more, often by making me extremely uncomfortable.

One of the benefits of living in New York is constant, free access to Central Park.  I used to run around the reservoir at the north end of the park and felt pretty smug once I could make it around twice–a total of 3.2 miles.  But running has a way of knocking you off your high horse, and that happened when I decided to run the Manhattan half marathon last year and made my first attempt at the outer loop of the park.  Six miles.  Six miles of hills.  And those hills kicked my ass.

Until the first day they didn’t, and I came out the winner.  I remember the elation and accomplishment I felt as I completed the loop, thinking I could do just about anything now that this was under my belt.  Then I stumbled from my high horse as I remembered that the race ahead of me would require over TWO loops around the park.  And any course that includes a stretch known as “Heartbreak Hill” is not joking around.

But I made it and became not just a runner, but a half-marathoner.   Which is helpful to remember on the many days when my running is completely craptastic.  I don’t have to run well every day to be a runner, I just have to show up.  And keep going.  And trust that there’s always a better run ahead.  And a worse one.  And a better one…