I run for that final sprint at the end of a race, when it feels like I’m holding my breath (even as I pant madly) and the world tears apart at the seams.
I run for the sense of accomplishment after conquering a hill, and for the easy speed that comes with going downhill.
I run to explore new neighborhoods, new street corners and new sights.
I run for second or third mile, when the early fatigue, aches and soreness are gone and all that’s left is pure movement.
I run for the extended glance a cute girl gives me when I’ve got my shirt off on a hot day.
I run for the moment my favorite song comes on my iPod, filling my legs with strength and sending forward.
I run so that next time I really have to catch a bus, I can make it no problem.
I run because I like passing other people.
I run for the feeling that I could run forever.
I run to stay connected to my ancestors’s hunt for dinner across the savannah.
I run because an IronMan is on my bucket list.
I run because I can.
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