>> I’ve been running regularly for almost six months now. I would have never anticipated that I would one day identify myself as a “runner”. And while I do support cardiovascular fitness, I support even more the way my body now looks. (Allow me to indulge in my vanity, please.) I have not lost any weight, but I have lost girth—and have subsequently gained complimentary commentary from friends. I like to look fetching.

>> The cumulative distance I have run over the past six months is over 100 miles (about 160 kilometers)! That’s like running from Sacramento to San Francisco! From Anaheim (Disneyland) to (the) San Diego (Zoo)! From Baltimore to Philadelphia! From Philadelphia to New York City! (What? I’m not preoccupied with New York City—what are you talking about?) Realizing the distance I have covered is rewarding—the measurable accomplishment brings me a sense of pride.

>> Running has helped me to chase buses with greater efficiency. Not only can I chase them farther, but I can also sprint faster after them. I’m more likely to catch them, particularly if they are of the double-length variety. (Not that I routinely chase buses, of course. I value punctuality.)

>> The cardiovascular fitness I have gained from running has helped my dancing, too. I no longer gasp for breath during (and after) faster songs. The limiting factor is now the (lack of) speed of my footwork, not my heart. (And, as a corollary, dancing has helped my running because I am more aware of the location of my center of gravity when I run up and down hills. I still get a little freaked out when I am dashing down hills when it is raining, but I have more confidence as to how I would fall—not on my face or head—if I stumble.)

>> It’s difficult to get out of the door these days. It’s not the cool, crisp mornings that increase my reluctance (though, admittedly, that does contribute to it—cold ears are uncomfortable): It’s the darkness. I miss the mornings when the sky was already aglow with light by 5:30am. Now, it is dark when I start running… and remains dark while I am running… and is still dark when I am done. Hooray for dorky-looking reflective vests!

>> There is something to be said about experiencing the early morning on a consistent basis, and this “something” is this: I have a greater appreciation for how the world changes with time. I’ve watched the light gradually fade from the morning sky as autumn descends upon us. I’ve watched the fog quietly slither down the hills as the day unfolds. I’ve felt a variety of rain against my skin, from soft, misty caresses to insistent, annoying spitwads. I’ve noticed the leaves collecting in mounds along the gutters and the way the sidewalks look brighter as a result of unobstructed street lamps. There’s the way the air feels on those mornings when it will rain, but hasn’t yet. The same windows in the same houses are consistently illuminated with light.

These are the reasons why running indoors seems like a terrible idea.

>> My most prized reason for running, though, is probably the stress relief and the “cognitive processing”. Ideas trickle through the folds of my brain while I run: I consider, ponder, contemplate, ruminate, deconstruct, reconstruct, and reflect. Sometimes, thinking about anxiety-provoking things while my heart rate is high makes me feel that much more subjectively uncomfortable, though that, in of itself, reminds me to be mindful of my (loud) breath. When I run East, I imagine that I am running towards New York City (me? preoccupied?)… and running helps me deal with the fact that I can’t do anything about that situation right now (except wait). That I have added another three-plus miles to my ongoing tally, though, is personally satisfying, and somewhat compensates for my current impotence in regards to my future next year. (Though my initial goal was to simply be in New York City for the fellowship, I am now smitten with a particular institution—and (im)patiently wait with bated breath.)

A good friend of mine (who also runs) insisted that I commit to an agreement: If When I end up in New York City next year, I must purchase a running skirt.

“But why?” I protested. It is a rare occasion that I wear a skirt as it is.

“Because, that way, you’ll look cute when you’re running in Central Park,” she teased.

We shall see!