A couple of years ago, a friend emailed me an article from the New York Times about running, more specifically, the article’s author speculated what runners might think about while they run. Basically, the author concluded that runners only think about what hurts and when will the run be over. I disagreed, bought a journal, and vowed to document my thoughts after each of my runs. And then I bought my domain, thebloggingjogger.com planning to upload my running thoughts.

I have a lot of thoughts while I am running, but whether or not I can remember what I thought about when I am finished is another matter. Usually what seemed so critical out there on the trail doesn’t seem so important once the run is over. But in general, some of the more common issues that run through my head as I huff and puff my way to some level of fitness are as follows:

  • Dogs—leash them and pick up their poop (and the poop bags). Don’t use those long expanding leashes, I am a runner not a hurdler.
  • Children—same as above
  • Trail etiquette—keep right except to pass, don’t hog the trail if there’s a group of you; no need to walk four abreast on a three-foot-wide trail. Share the trail.
  • Bathrooms—running shakes things loose. Runners run all year. Don’t close bathrooms in the winter.

Two years later, I am finally getting around to recording my thoughts (and pictures, pictures are easier) from my runs.

I started running four years ago when I turned 50 and realized that I wanted to age with some grace and dignity. Also because I really like to drink beer and if I was going to continue to drink beer, I needed to mitigate my consumption somehow. Running seemed a good option even though I wasn’t crazy about it at first.

Now, I don’t know how to begin my day if I don’t go for a run. I shoot for 120 miles a month, roughly five miles a day. I’m not as competitive as I once was. I walk now when I’m tired. I stopped racing a couple of years ago, pretty much. I try to get in at least a seven miler (or longer) once a week.

I am frustrated with my Nike app. Some days it seems like it takes an act of congress to get it started and stopped, and other times a damp shirt sleeve will brush my Apple watch incidentally, ending my run prematurely. I don’t understand.

These are my musings. I consider myself a runner, not a jogger, but blogging jogger was more alliterative than blogging runner or running blogger. There you have it.




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