The other day, my husband asked why I included the part about "black toenails" and "shin splints" and why - why, why, why - I kind of focus on the ugly part of running with my blog's title.
"It's a rite of passage," I said. It's true; you can't really call yourself a runner until your toes press up against your shoes and make your nails black, or until your shins feel like someone has repeatedly kicked you.
I remember being in high school and just starting out with cross-country. I had no idea that distance running can really do a number on your body, so I was certainly surprised to see teammates griping about having to ice their legs at night and trying to do resistance stretching during the day. I naively stretched my legs and nervously watched as some of my teammates had to complete special stretches for their legs and hips.
After a few weeks of running - and running more than I ever had in my life - I took off my socks after a particularly brutal practice and saw a discolored nail on one of my toes. It was black, and it was gross, and I was convinced my toe would fall off that night. I treated it like a badge of pride and told my teammates about it the next day because dude, it meant that I was kind of a serious runner now. I had the battle scars to prove it.
Running isn't always ugly, of course. There's the elation of crossing the finish line, and the not-so-subtle bragging when you say "I ran 10 miles this morning. What about you?" There's satisfaction in knowing you look great in shorts, and that your legs can probably be used to sharpen an axe blade. It's living for the runner's high, and it's gloating over your superior metabolism. It's a lot of things, and it's neat, but it's also got the dark side to it.
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