I ran through the desert last Friday morning. The race started early – like 3 AM early. The idea was to run a half marathon along a winding, twisting road that ended at the foot of Masada in time for sunrise. It was a beautiful run. The silence of the night, the looming mountains illuminated by the full moon, the quiet rhythm of the runners. Perhaps my best run so far.

I was never a runner. I did my fair share of 10ks, but nothing more than that. And then about two years ago I started taking it more seriously. I signed up for my first half marathon.  It is absolutely no coincidence that it coincided with my decision to get divorced. I have always used sports as an outlet for stress, and I needed something to just let it all out. Short of starting my own fight club, the running certainly helped. Nothing like pressing forward up the hills of Jerusalem to release everything inside of you. But more than that, as I began to train – it was like I was running back to myself.

I’m not sure if I ever experienced the runners high, but I do know that with each kilometer I tacked on I felt better about where I was in life. I could hear my voice coming back. Pushing me, pulling me, sometimes dragging me to just keep going. To take everything and just say – screw it, it can’t break me. I started to believe myself again when I said I could do anything – and I no longer felt like a phony when I told Amichai that he too could do anything. I was finally showing him who I was, he could see me now…and more than anything, that is what has driven me to continue running.

Running is all about you vs. you. That’s what I enjoy. I’m an average runner at best. I can do a half marathon in under 2 hours and my first full marathon I did in a little over 4 hours (rookie mistake of starting too fast…its not a sprint, it’s a marathon…) Nothing special. No doubt, I’ve improved and gotten faster over the past two years but I’m not breaking records here. Its just me testing myself each time. Can I keep going even when I am miles past my breaking point? Every long distance run will inevitably present challenges, will inevitably present a certain degree of pain. How much am I willing to endure to reach my goal and how deep can I dig? Do I have it in me. And that’s what I want Amichai to see.

I want him to see that its ok to struggle. I want him to see that I struggle… specifically with something physical…because while I can sink a foul shot with my eyes closed or break an opponent’s ankles with a cross-over (or at least I used to in my younger days…) it doesn’t mean that everything is easy for me. I’m not a natural runner in any way, but you know – I can still try. I want him to see that its ok to commit to something that might be very hard and even at times downright unpleasant. I want him to see that that even in those agonizing moments – when your body is screaming and cursing at you to quit – you can retreat to the peaceful solitude of your mind that tells you to just. keep. going.

And then suddenly, when you think that this is really it, that you have nothing left to give – you turn the corner and see the sun rising.

You see it Amichai?