Why running is like social work

Why run? It hurts. Every time I go out, the first two miles of a run I swear, spit and sweat a lot. My face gets red and I ask, why am I making myself suffer like this? A few reasons came to me after I'd passed the three mile mark on Sunday's run.

Here is what I came up with:

It started with my Dad. Sweaty track intervals.

Then came Miss Garvin. Inspiring, listening to "baby we were born to run," long runs up Carter Hill. I was captain of our team, really I was.

Then I went to Montana and ran to fit into my best jeans and so I could stay upright on my skis.

In Ecuador, I ran with Ank and Stacy while car loads of men hung out the windows whistling and we... ran faster.

In Vermont, I ran pushing my babies up our dirt road with my wobbly baby jogger.

Now, I run so my kids will be motivated to stay active, so when Matt's friends say, "do you mountain bike, MC?" I can say, "no....but I RUN!"

Along the way, while I was running, I became a social worker. Now, I aspire to teach college students to become change makers, socially conscious community members, culturally sensitive beings, future social workers. Everyday, I talk to my students about working with underrepresented, impoverished people. They always ask me to tell them, "what will it be like when a client is crying in our office, terribly alone? How will we know what to do?"

And I tell them, "it's like running. It's hard, your face gets red and you wonder, why am I doing this? How will I ever be able to make a difference or know what to say?"

But, like my life of running you keep moving ahead. You get better, the hills get easier, your heart rate goes up, you get yelled at out the window, you learn to cheer more for your children and less for yourself, you hate it some days, but love it more days.

Being a social worker requires lots of guts, sweat and a solid core. Running feeds that, at least for me. And the best part? Your jeans will look good too.

Please give. We need your help.