My running career started out a little too dramatically.  I started running in November of 2004.  One day in early January, I ended up curled up on the side of the road in pain.  I drew a crowd.  The hospital eventually determined that I had suffered a brain hemorrhage due to a cerebral aneurysm.  This was not my best running moment.

I was one of the lucky ones.  My aneurysm didn't kill me.  I didn't have any brain damage.  One of the first things I asked my doctor was whether I could get back on the road.  My doctor's orders were "If it hurts, don't do it."  Running hadn't caused the aneurysm to burst, and running wouldn't endanger me now.  It just might hurt.  Overdoing it would have its own consequences.  My body would impose its own limits.

For the next six months, I had chronic ,debilitating headaches.  I couldn't tote a laptop up the stairs.  Running to catch the bus meant that I would be in pain the rest of the day.  I finally began to accept that I wouldn't be getting back on the road for a while.

When I did go back to running, my family was understandably nervous.  My wife was a wreck the first few times I went out.  I don't blame her.  The truth is that I'm not sure that I would be able to be as supportive.  She amazes me still.

The decision to run isn't a one time thing.  I didn't only decide to run in 2004, nor when I was able to start running again in 2006.  Every time I head out the door in my running gear, I'm voting with my feet.  I'm making a statement that says that I'm a runner.

You would think that after all this, I would have developed some sort of boilerplate statement to explain why I run.  The reasons depend on the day.  I run to spend time outdoors. I run because I may be slow, but I'm getting faster.  I run because it's a beatiful day outside, or I run in spite of the weather. 

I run because of the amazing richness that running has brought to my life. I run because it's what I do.  It's what I do, and to the best of my ability, I won't let anything get in the way of that.