How I Feel About Running
By: Ryen Hamp
Tags: Growing Up, Running, Reflections, Jogging, Self Improvement

I’m no great runner, and by running I mean jogging. My first memory of explicit jogging was in 3rd grade at a private school I had been attending, where the entirety of our class was told to run a few times around two small baseball fields in a large field placed just outside of the school. I learned then, that sprinting a long run wasn’t a great idea if the goal was to complete the run comfortably. It was around that age, I think, that I was at my peak in sincere exploration. Jogging around the fields became a weekly school activity from then on out, and I learned to accept that I was better at short distance running, or at least favored it to some extent.

I was never particularly good at jogging. To my understanding, I was average at best. I started soccer as a 4 year old, and stopped before freshman year of High School when everyone from my local league joined their High School teams. I remember distinctly that all of my coaches, the many that I had over the years, would consistently tell me to not give up chasing after the ball. To them, those were words of encouragement. For me, those were words reminding of extra management. Perhaps because my endurance was low, or perhaps because I played in a fashion that exposed my endurance frequently, I had a lacking understanding of improving endurance. Instead, I viewed my endurance as something to be managed; to be rationed and split up in order to sustain.

In the summer of my 8th grade year, I attended a 5 week long overnight camp several states away. It was an academic camp, but required a sport or an athletic activity for all 5 weeks. At the time, I felt inspired to try to become more physically active. The motive wasn’t derived from anything social or cultural; it felt like somewhat of an instinctual desire. This is, in part, why I chose to try out cross country as my sport for the first half of the camp. Contrary to what I expected, I didn’t feel at all out of place. Out of the 15 or so kids, I was right about average. As the season began, I was able to start talking to and getting to know more of the kids running. At the same time, I began to notice the differences in their abilities, and my own. Where as I couldn’t complete a lap without stopping to walk, some of them could continue, and at a faster pace than mine. I find it difficult to try to accurate portray how I felt about this “discovery”. Gaps in ability was something that I already knew about, that everyone knows about. In a way this was more of a acknowledgement, than it was news.

My experience of running at the camp allowed me to acknowledge inescapable differences. As I noticed that some kids were improving rapidly, I had no choice but to accept it. As I realized that some kids lacked any semblance of improvement, I had no choice but to nod my head. In jogging, I had come to recognize the fundamental, and unchangeable differences in ability, that went beyond that of how fast I, or any runner, was. Some, biological, others, psychological. In jogging, I was neither blessed, nor cursed. I left the camp satisfied with my improvements, and eager for more.

I feel as though my story gets repetitive from this point on. I join the cross country team in High School, and notice the same gaps I had noticed at the camp, I improve yet again, and I feel motivated to accomplish more. I suppose the one difference is that I have continued to consistently jog outside of any school or camp program. Even as I write this at 9:01 pm, I’m contemplating going out for a quick jog. My experience in running has given me insight on how I have, and arguably, should, view the world. As much as I, and I’m sure much of the world, dislike corny phrases, I truly see no harm in allotting focus in self improvement, as opposed to competition. Today, I’m still not sure if I enjoy running, in the same way that I would enjoy a hobby, but I still actively choose to run as a method of refreshing my mind to a state of self-focus and tranquility. Strangely enough, I find a sense of pride and accomplishment in even choosing to do so. I can only look forward to see how this may affect my future.