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Fall has finally hit Portland. Today, as I was walking out the door for my run, it clouded over and began to pour. I quickly turned around and grabbed a waterproof layer, but by the time I got to the corner the sun was out again. I doubled back and dropped the jacket off.

As the autumn sun warmed me up, I began to feel really optimistic about my workout. I had been fighting off a cold for the past couple days and was having a hard time convincing myself to get out there. After my first mile I began to loosen up and my sinuses cleared like the skies above.

I trotted along listening to happy old school rap and started to think about the race. I wondered how fast I’d actually push myself to run, where I’d do my 10k, and what my result would be. Did it really matter? I have no idea what a good time would be and no previous personal record to compare to. Would I still have the same motivation after the race to gradually increase my running distance? What would I train for next?

Then I asked myself the ultimate question: Why do I run? I started because the holidays are approaching and so are the pies and pints, and because I want to be in good shape for those precious times I get to go surfing. But since I got into it, I discovered that running is addictive. Once you’ve been doing it a while, you feel like a sloth if you miss a few days. It also just keeps things in perspective: when other aspects of your life are going pear-shaped, at least you have your health.

Rounding a corner and tearing through a pile of red and orange leaves near the curb, I realized that I was already just a few blocks away from my house. I noticed that I wasn’t even panting hard and that my playlist hadn’t even finished yet. As I pulled up in front of my front steps, I stopped my music and looked up again. It had clouded over and a few wet raindrops bounced off my cheeks.

Why do you run?

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