I run because if I didn't, I'd be sluggish and glum and spend too much time on the couch. I run to breathe the fresh air. I run to explore. I run to escape the ordinary. I run to savor the trip along the way. Life becomes a little more vibrant, a little more intense. I like that.

While the primary goal for first-time marathon runners is just to reach the finish line, most second-timers (and beyond) aim for something more—to beat their first marathon time. But what should you target? One way to determine a realistic new marathon time goal is to base it on your performance in a 5-K, 10-K, or half-marathon tune-up race; plug your time into a prediction calculator to see what your marathon time could be. This is no guarantee, but it could be one helpful guideline to use in the goal-setting process.

The human body is capable of amazing physical deeds. If we could just free ourselves from our perceived limitations and tap into our internal fire, the possibilities are endless.

I never feel more alive than when I'm in great pain, struggling against insurmountable odds and untold adversity. Hardship? Suffering? Bring it! I've said it before and I've come to believe it: There's magic in misery.

Struggling and suffering are the essence of a life worth living. If you're not pushing yourself beyond the comfort zone, if you're not demanding more from yourself - expanding and learning as you go - you're choosing a numb existence. You're denying yourself an extraordinary trip. 

I run because long after my footprints fade away, maybe I will have inspired a few to reject the easy path, hit the trails, put one foot in front of the other, and come to the same conclusion I did: I run because it always takes me where I want to go.

We runners don't need a lot. It is not what we have but what we enjoy that constitutes our abundance.

I try to stay in the moment. I try to be present and to not get ahead of myself. Many times a low point comes as a result of suffering and thinking about how much more suffering is still ahead. I try to remain in the moment and just put one foot in front of the other to the best of my ability and not to think about anything else except for each individual forward stride.

We runners are a unique breed. We like chasing dreams. We are kindred spirits in this regard. Whether your dream is running across America, tackling a marathon, or completing your first 5-K, it really doesn't matter. When you distill it all, we don't run for the trophies or the records or the recognition, we run because a rapidly beating heart pumps more life through our veins.

Our ultimate calling is not to arrive at the finish line in a composed state, but rather to stagger in breathlessly, totally annihilated and on the verge of collapse, proudly knowing in our hearts that we have run our race, and it was glorious. Whether you end up with a medal being placed around your neck or an IV line being placed into your arm, the inner bliss is the same. You have waged your war and you have emerged victorious. You are content. If you are never to take another step, you will forever remain satisfied. The job is done.

That is, until the next one. Yeah, every runner knows the feeling.

Somewhere along the line we seem to have confused comfort with happiness. I've now come to believe that quite the opposite is the case.