Marcie Ratliff
Winonan

Why would anyone willingly get up before dawn to run? It’s a question I often get asked. Or I get looked at like I am an alien from another solar system in which the oxygen levels are sufficiently high to make running easy and enjoyable and efficient and exciting.

Oh wait. It actually is all of those things, even on Earth.

Admittedly, my habits are rather strange. I came to athleticism late in life, having spent the first 14 years of my life avoiding running like it was lethal, faking illness every time we had to run the mile in physical education and only running when I didn’t notice I was doing it—on the soccer field, that is.

But after a few years of high school track, during which I learned how strong and fast I was not, I was hooked on running. My tenure at the back of the pack, which taught me a lot about the value of silence and long country roads, gradually gave way to a middle-of-the-pack-ish-ness I’m still getting used to. I wake up in the morning to run and automatically wonder if I can still run, or if I will get out on the road and lose it after 800 meters.

I am not fast, but running for me is more than speed. It’s like any hobby; once you sink enough hours into something it becomes part of you, and sometimes the slowest runs make the coolest memories.

I remember doing an 11-miler out-and-back from Bloedows, just so my friend and I could get donuts when we came back.

I remember doing a 10-miler out to Prairie Island during Boats and Bluegrass, so we could run by all the cool people in tents and hear the music for free.

Watching the sun rise over the river. Seeing eagles wheeling above the bluffs. Beating tugboats on the river road. Finding bones, bleached in the sun.

Finding new trails.

Blazing new trails.

And there’s a camaraderie among runners, because we are so different. All running requires is a pair of shoes (even that is debatable) and time, so all kinds of people show up at races and running clubs with only one thing in common.

What is that one thing? It’s simply whatever gets me out of bed and running. Perhaps it’s the rhythm of running, or the endorphins, or the crazy stories I hear from people who’ve been on the road longer than I’ve been alive. Perhaps it’s the road, or the field, or the beach, where newness is never far away. The friends, the memories, the health benefits, the excuse to eat donuts.

At any rate, I run. Join me?

Contact Marcie at [email protected]