“I’m a runner,” I said

I’ve mentioned before that I have always struggled with calling myself a runner. Silly, I know. I run, therefore I am a runner—right? And yet I shied away from saying those words.

But I am a runner. I run regularly and faithfully, in hot and cold weather. There have been times I’ve packed more fitness clothing than regular clothing when I’m traveling. I look up good running routes when I’m out of town. In other words, I do everything a runner does.

This week I was emailing with a work colleague—we’ll both be in Provo next week, and she mentioned wanting to try a trail she’d heard about. I wrote back and said “I’m a runner, do you think that would be a good running trail?”*

That's a runner right there

And then I sort of blinked. I don't know what made the difference, why this time I used those words but finally, finally I said it (almost without thinking).

*It isn’t, actually, that trail is straight up a mountain. While I’m pretty fearless, I live at 900 feet and Provo is about 4500 feet and that altitude will be enough of a challenge for me.