It’s a nice day to be National Running Day. It’s not too hot, not too humid… not a bad day for a run. Sissy, Gg and I will indeed run this afternoon. I don’t run often or far, but my body craves diversity in its workouts, so we do run here and there.
I don’t call myself a runner. I’ve read several articles on that same topic of late. Seems we all have some pre-conceived notion about how far or fast or often one has to run to call herself a runner. My good friend basically blogless Jess coined the term “wog” to explain the walk-jog she does, and I use that a lot to define my … style.
See, I was once – twice? – a true RUNNER. If I was posting from home, maybe I’d wander to the guest room and take a photo of the winged shoe pin on my letterman’s jacket from high school. I became a part of the high school track team in 8th grade. I sprinted, tried hurdles, and gave everyone a good laugh the one time (in practice only) I tried to do the triple jump. I even did cross country one fall, instead of tennis. I ran off and on into my late 20s, when my back announced that pounding the pavement wasn’t going to work for us.
Now, I don’t believe you have to be an elite runner to say you’re a runner. I have two friends who are marathoners, and several friends who enjoy fairly regular charitable races in the 5-10K range.
What do you think? Does time, distance, speed or frequency matter, or can you call yourself a runner if you sometimes shuffle faster for an interval or two?
Happy National Running Day, just the same. We’re not all built to run either, just as we’re not all meant to be baseball or hockey all-stars.