Being a runner means you are now free to win and lose and live life to its fullest.

Your goals and reasons for running and racing should be personalized... [It] could be because you are hoping to lose weight. Perhaps you like running because of the good feeling it gives you when you complete a run. Maybe the reason you lace up your running shoes is because it is a far better addiction than one you previously had. The main thing is that you have your own reasons. Do not run for anyone else...

When you run for reasons all your own, you have a stake in your running. You do not need to prove anyone wrong, you do not need to justify your passions, and your grip on your happiness becomes that much stronger.

As a breed, runners are a pretty gutsy bunch. We constantly push ourselves to discover limitations, then push past them. We want to know how fast we can go, how much pain we can endure, and how far our bodies can carry us before collapsing in exhaustion. Moving outward is an act of courage, and in my life, running has also been a vehicle of introduction—to people, places, cultures, and animals. I have run races on all seven continents. Running may be the connective tissue, but the true essence of the sport is a passage to a bigger world.

One does not simply wear a kilt to run without first checking the wind conditions.

Go ahead and pick one: It's too hot, cold, humid, windy, wet, icy. Weather is a great justification for not running because it shifts all blame to the forces of nature. It's not my fault, you smugly assure yourself. It's that annoying guy on The Weather Channel who predicted the brutal cold front that came through and prevented me from running. Nice excuse. But it's not going to work. The weather is vitally important to all runners, but most runners figure that what doesn't kill them just makes them tougher.

It's important to remember that each footstrike carries you forward, not backward. And every time you put on your running shoes you are different in some way than you were the day before. This is all good news, since we have no control over the kind of runner we were in the past, yet we have a fair amount of control over the kind of runner we want to become.

In the future, will you be a faster runner? Probably, if you make weekly speedwork a priority. Will you be able to run farther? Most likely, if you gradually increase your weekly mileage. You have a say when you focus on where you're trying to go instead of where you've been.

I prefer summer and fall training in the mountains, but I have learned to put up with the cold winters, knowing that running in various weather conditions presents various challenges that make me stronger. My best races have come in the early spring after enduring a hard winter of running…

Runners are not elitists in general. They welcome all manner of persons to their sport. But they are elitist in this respect: they see only one way to run, and that is the long way. The long way means putting in the time. It means spending an inordinate amount of your waking hours alone or with other similarly afflicted souls, pounding the pavement. It means coping with a variety of aches and pains and small physical indignities to achieve a greater sense of health and well-being. There is only one way to happiness in running, and that is the long way. There are no shortcuts. Take the long way to happiness in running, and you'll be sure to find it.

The very nature of long-distance running resonates with the Japanese spirit. Endurance, perseverance, and the will to never-give-up-no-matter-how-damn-uncomfortable-it-gets are core Japanese values. A popular proverb is Nana-korobi, ya-oki. (Fall down seven times, get up eight times.) One of the highest compliments that can be paid to an athlete is to say that he or she has makenki, roughly translated as 'the spirit not to lose.'

All top international athletes wake up in the morning feeling tired and go to bed feeling very tired.

There's always a point where you get knocked down. But I draw on what I've learned on the track: If you work hard, things will work out.

When I get to the part in the race where it starts to feel hard, when I want to give up, I talk to myself. It goes like this: 'Who are you trying to impress?' Or, more precisely, 'Who are you afraid of disappointing?' Maybe there are people who are truly self-motivated, who don't need attention and praise. That's noble. I am made of weaker stuff. I care what others think about me; I care about how I will tell the story when I have to say, out loud, how things went. For me, shame is a useful motivator. I like to trumpet my successes because it helps me to hear not that I'm better than people think I am, but better than I believe I am. At some point, you make a choice. At some point, you stop having the conversation. You make a decision. You take action. You just do it, or you don't. 'Who will I disappoint?' Of course, when I start hearing that nagging question, I know that the only answer that matters is: me.

In western society, many of us seem to lose our youthful enthusiasm and simple delights as we grow up. Thankfully, running provides an opportunity to experience those emotions
anytime we like. The trick is learning not to dwell on the superficial things that we think will help us run better or faster. I like to remind myself that Abebe Bikila trained without a watch, did long runs without drinking Gatorade, and won the Olympic marathon without shoes. 

I'm not advocating that we all start running barefoot, but we should rediscover such simple gifts in other ways. Leave your watch at home sometimes before you run.

Savor the child-like joy of moving across the earth under your own power. Run barefoot in the grass. Stop and look at the view at the top of a hill, or gaze at the water in the stream you are crossing.

Seek out your own valley of love and delight. Be thankful for your ability to run, and take pleasure in the fact that you are able to do it. Enjoy every mile of the journey, because we never know when we may be in the homestretch.

Really, these should be the easy things to do.

Thanksgiving is a time to be with loved ones and to recall all that you have to be thankful for during the year: family, friends, good health, prosperity, and running – though not necessarily in that order. The main benefit of running Thanksgiving morning is that by piling on the miles, you can later pack in the calories without the slightest bit of guilt. Indeed, with that 10K you ran at 9 a.m., you don't have to think twice about having seconds on herbed stuffing, savory turkey, mashed potatoes, Granny's pumpkin pie, or that Jell-O dessert with the marshmallows on top. Many will find a leisurely run in the brisk autumn air the perfect way to start their Thanksgiving Day. It's an expression of appreciation for another good year of running, and a way to make room for all the bounty at the Thanksgiving table.

The finish line is the same for all runners. How we get there and what we do along the way are what matters most. The journey defines us.

So many times you want to give up, but you cannot. That's what ultrarunning is all about. That's what life is all about.

You might think, 'I don't have time to run,' or 'Running is not the most important thing I need to do today.' But you have a choice about how to spend your time. Ask yourself what is the most important thing you need to do today. What is it that you are making time for? How important is your health to you? Keep in mind that of the most effective exercise options, running requires the least amount of time.

Dear Running,

I am a teenager with a disability. I have tuberous sclerosis complex (TSC), a genetic disorder that causes tumors to form in the brain, heart, lungs, and kidneys. My TSC is moderate, meaning I can go to regular schools, attend dances, and play sports, but I rely on special education teachers because it's hard for me to process complicated topics and questions, and my slow reaction time makes it difficult to play team sports and impossible to drive.

I started running because I wanted to be fit and make friends. My parents were my inspiration; they were always training for a race. At first I stuggled. But in 2009, I made the track and cross-country team in high school. When I run, everything is clear. I can go at my own pace, and I'm always moving forward. I never let anyone down; I finish in the middle of the pack.

Yes, I wish I was faster, but I don't run to win. Like most things in my life, if you judge me by my results, you aren't getting the entire picture. If there were never another race, I would still go out to run in the rain, up the hills, and down the streets.

Running has given me confidence unlike anything else. It defines me. Today I am 19 and my philosophy is Why walk when you can run?

Two years ago I ran my first half-marathon. For me, running isn't about the recognition - it's about how it makes me feel. Like a normal teenager.

Thank you, running.

Casey Revman

A guy who has run twenty Boston Marathons was once asked, 'Don't you feel like skipping a day when it's raining?' The old road warrior replied, 'If you start skipping runs because the weather's too lousy, pretty soon you start missing runs because the weather's too nice!'

I have also taken up running, something I gave up years ago in the wet, gloomy darkness of Portland. But I don't run because it's sunny here almost every day, and I don't run because there are more perfect bodies in Los Angeles than I have ever seen in my life. I run because I can.

And I run because, as my feet meet the sidewalk, I digest my life changes and discover new lines for my stories, and as the palm trees tickle my peripheral vision, I dream.

And I run because as I count down the blocks in descending order — eighteen, seventeen, sixteen — I know when my feet land on block one, my eyes will be rewarded with the most humbling stretch of the Pacific Ocean. Some days I stand on the path above the beach, taking in the endless kingdom of liquid blue. Some days I run down the slope and over the bridge onto the sand, to smell the water and listen to the waves moving toward and away from the land.

Then, I remind myself to stay in the fight, while I surrender to this view.