I am a runner.  I am not the fastest lady on the track.  To many, my stride is slow.  You might even refer to me as a jogger. I am okay with either.  As long as I get to lace up my shoes and put one foot in front of the other at some point during the day, I am a happy camper.  Well happy may be a stretch, but much more content, that's for sure.  It allows me to clear my head, to feel some semblance of sanity, even for a brief moment. 

You might think that it was completing my first marathon that cementing this in me, my identity as runner.  That would make sense, for sure. But it was just a regular run, five miles if I recall correctly.  Around 20 minutes in, it dawned on me.  I knew without a shadow of a doubt. I was a runner. I am a runner. It gives me strength to face the day.  It gives me calm in the inevitable storm that is life.  On the most miserable, manic days, for those fifty or sixty minutes, I can know peace.  I can sense God, as I understand God. Running allows me to know serenity on a personal level. I will always be enormously grateful for my running shoes.  Hell, sometimes I think they save my life.  Certainly my sanity.