Running is a way of life for me, just like brushing my teeth. If I don't run for a few days, I feel as if something's been stolen from me.

The real purpose of running isn't to win a race, it's to test the limits of the human heart.

Failure is as exciting to watch as success, provided the effort is absolutely genuine and complete. But the spectators fail to understand – and how can they know – the mental agony through which an athlete must pass before he can give his maximum effort. And how rarely, if he is built as I am, he can give it.

There is nothing quite so gentle, deep, and irrational as our running—and nothing quite so savage, and so wild.

This, then, is the pull of Boston, a chance to drink from the same deep cup of history as every great marathoner who has come before, every great champion who has run on exactly these same streets, whose dreams similarly have come true or been dashed over the daunting distance. The roads that make up the Boston Marathon hold the ghosts which define the sport and which unite all runners in a community of suffering and triumph. Name, if you can, another such event in any other sport.

If ever I should forget who I am, and what I believe, I only need to run that path, and in my running, I will find my way back to myself, and discover once again who I am.

People today are generally taught to wallow in the wake of little injustices done to them, to look for excuses to under-perform, to assign blame for failures and for failure to try. This cultural mind-set has infected running.

We demand recognition for doing something we should be doing for its own sake, because it is natural and good. We demand recognition even if we train haphazardly and race half-heartedly. We strive not to be the best we can be but merely to be. That's enough. We'll get by doing as little as we can and then demand some recognition for it.

And in the process we cheat ourselves. We never move far enough ahead in our training to hit that overdrive gear in our running, where the reality of a hard asphalt surface beneath our feet is negated, and we are floating, running strong and free like the human animal whose divine design infuses all of us. A result of our under-striving is that we never earn admission to that special place in our running where the joy of effortless movement resides.

Can you become a champion? The short answer is yes. Becoming a champion starts with believing in yourself, knowing what you want to achieve, and being willing to work for it. Being realistic helps too. It's important to pick the event that's best for you, learn what you need to train for it effectively, get good advice – and go for it! You can be a champion at whatever level you attain.

We westerners have a tendency to look outside ourselves for secrets and shortcuts. But running is such a basic, nontechnical activity that the greatest truths may be the simplest. You have to train hard. You have to take rest breaks. You have to eat well but not too much. You have to expect some bad days and bad races; all life, after all, follows certain cyclical patterns. Excessive worry and hair-pulling won't do too much good. The best way to race well another day is to put today behind you. You can't change it, so you might as well accept it and move onward. Face tomorrow with a fresh, open, confident attitude. If you believe tomorrow could be the day when everything works out perfectly for you, then that may in fact be the case.

After running a few marathons I can explain to people why I run. It calms me. I can't imagine not having it in my life. It helps me to sort through things. It's like stepping outside myself and getting a better perspective of who I am. Running helps me focus better, helps me take my life in the direction it needs to go. It's not like I concentrate on these topics while I'm in the process of running, but running opens my mind to all kinds of possibilities and perhaps the solution is out there waiting for me to find it. Running takes me to that place.

That's the year when, as a ninth grader, I started running. Immediately I was enamored. I loved the sense of exploration, of challenging myself, of being outside in all kinds of weather. I loved the time alone, time to think about whatever came to my head. I loved seeing if I could go farther than I ever had, or run a loop faster than I did the week before. I loved how I felt physically while running and how I felt mentally when I was done. When I joined the high school cross-country team that fall, I learned to love running even more. Training with friends, racing against those friends, building toward a long-term goal – all this and more about being a competitive runner added a whole other layer of attraction to this most natural act.

A main difference between true runners and dabblers at running is how often they obey stop signs. You are a true runner because of the running you do on the days when you didn't feel like starting.

There also are days when feelings lie in reverse. You want to run when your body really needs to rest. But far more often you don't feel like taking the hardest step - the first one out the door - and look for reasons not to take it. These reasons usually have nothing to do with your ability to run. You just feel sleepy, hung over, harried, stuffy, or stiff - feelings that running is more likely to cure than to make worse.

Get past the lying feelings by making them wait to be heard. Plan only to start, reserve judgement for a mile or two, and only then decide where to go from there. The body tells the truth after it is warmed up. More often than not, the voices that conspired against running will have stilled by then.

Running has taught me that we are capable of doing more than we ever imagined, that we can overcome huge obstacles, and that consistency pays off!

Run for the euphoria, the fitter body, the healthier life, the stronger legs, the easier staircases, the sound mind, the accomplishments, the failures, the easy runs, the hard runs, the fartleks, the LSDs, the 5k, the 8 mile mornings, the running buddies, the cheers, the water afterward, the pasta, the bread, and the running life.

But most importantly, run for yourself.

Isn't it great that our sport doesn't need human judges? No need for us to worry about 'artistic' merit, no one around taking off points for our form. All we've got to do is just put low numbers on the objective, non-partisan, incorruptible clock. Best is least.

When you're moving in the right direction, life doesn't have a chance to pass you by.

You don't become a champion by winning a morning workout. The only true way is to marshal the ferocity of your ambition over the course of many days, weeks, months, and (if you could finally come to accept it) years. The Trial of Miles; Miles of Trials.

Any long relationship has its ups and downs. And for me, that hot honeymoon period lasted a really long time — what a trip we had! Running isn't so much a courtship at this point. I feel like I've become one with it. That being said, the romance hasn't died so much as it has become routine. Expected. Comfortable. Easy in its own way.

Of course I could train harder to gain speed or try longer distances to add more notches to my bragging belt — anything to spice up the known and shake up my motivation. Thing is, this post isn't about gaining motivation or smashing through plateaus. I think there's something to be said to settling into a good, healthy routine and being happy, fulfilled regardless of pace or whatever else I used to gain from lacing up at different events.

For a while, I questioned it. I searched for 'the answer' to rekindle my passion back to its previous levels. In the end, I am at peace with my current state of non-competitive forward movement as it nurtures my body and spirit. There's a calmness and confidence I have in my own athletic ability that I've never experienced before. And, though it sometimes feels odd, it's actually a great place to be.

It's a funny thing coming home after a long run. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what's changed, is you.

Yet we all hold out hope that on this Patriots' Day the stars will align for us—my body will respond to all the hard training I've done, Mother Nature will hear my heartfelt pleas, I'll put together the race of my dreams. In this way, preparing for a marathon is a bit like planning for a miracle.

The marathon is the essence of the unknown transforming into the known; there's always as much potential for destruction as there is creativity, as much chance of misery as there is elation, as much room for heartbreak as there is for triumph. That's the fun of racing a marathon. It's about seeing if you can go to the very edge without going over the cliff.