I often get asked why I run. In fact I was asked that this week at Starbucks. It’s a simple question with a not so simple answer.

It started as a form of team building last November. A colleague wanted to get healthier and I told her I would run a 5k with her. Next thing I know myself and several others are crossing the finish line. But I didn’t stop. I followed it up with a Thanksgiving Day 10k with my sister. It went on from there.

I’m now 18 races in since November 2016 and training for my first marathon (I say first like there may be a second but that’s highly unlikely).

I run because I can.

I run to be healthy.

I run so I can eat all the Costco chocolate covered raisins that I want (Kirkland’s brand, all others pale in comparison).

I run because it’s a socially acceptable form of alone time. (No one judges you for saying I’m going for a run but if I was drinking a carafe of sangria and watch Grey’s Anatomy in the closet by myself….)

I run for the camaraderie. Even though it can be good alone time I have a great support network that pushes me to be better. They inspire me and keep me going. I like standing at a starting line talking to strangers. Nodding at the other weirdos who paid to participate in a free individual sport, together.

I run races because I like the medals and the “free” snacks at the finish line. I don’t get awards for anything else in my life. A medal for picking the kids up from school? Not going to happen. A nice ribbon for cleaning up the cat barf? No sirree. But thanks to races I can get a medal for simply placing one foot in front of the other. Yay me!

Mostly I run for me. I’m competing with myself. It’s up to me whether I do well or not. It holds me accountable. And quite simply, it makes me happy.