It is the endorphins that do it every time. There is a sense of well-being among runners, no-matter what the armchair critics say, running is good for you.
In my line of work, it is a given that I will meet at least one person a day who will tell me how bad running is for you. “I mean, a guy actually died at the Comrades Marathon once. You see that’s why I don’t want to run, I don’t want to die. And besides what do you think of when you run? Running is boring.”
From across the desk comes the lecture from an overweight lass who is busy smoking, she has two telephones under her chin and she is yelling at her secretary to bring her a fresh ashtray. She is younger than me but you wouldn’t have guessed it.
I think of the cold mornings I have met with a small but hardy band of fellow runners, I think of our jokes and the light hearted banter that takes place while we trot along. The only smoke present is our warm breath hitting the chill. This is what life is all about; this is a moment to savour. Pretty soon the sun will come up and we will be treated to a moment of sheer bliss.
There is no doubt that as you become fitter and better trained you change. For a number of years I witnessed this change at the Comrades Panel Talks, once held at the University of Johannesburg campus. Early on in the programme I would make the promise to the audience; “you will not view life in the same way ever again if you follow the programme and finish the race.” The uncertainty was palpable in the lecture theatre that night.
I recall the last Comrades lecture just a week before the race. – There is excitement in the air, but there is also something else, a quiet confidence, a calmness and an inner strength. Under all the bubble and noise there is a tangible silence that is easily understood by fellow runners. I was making good on my promise. When I talk to those runners after the race, that promise was kept.
Distance running seems to do that. It knocks off a lot of the rough edges; it rounds a person off and gives a definite sense of well-being. There are times when I feel elated, even when I am hurting and I am tired. And so our running group rounds a corner, chatting and laughing and someone lets out a loud fart. We all burst out laughing and sprint to the top of the hill, steam rising from our breath as we yell “morning” to fellow runners coming in the opposite direction.
I look across the desk at this poor girl, now looking for her lighter, yelling once again for coffee, an ashtray and fumbling with a ringing cell-phone. “What do I think of when I run? Hell, I don’t know, I just run.”