When I first started running, I never thought it would become such a big part of my life. I wasn’t a “runner” by any means. In fact, I’d convinced myself that running was just something I wasn’t built for—too hard on the lungs, too boring, too something. I tried it a few times, usually after being inspired by a friend or seeing a running montage in some motivational movie, but it never stuck.

Then one day, I decided to try again. Not for weight loss or to hit a specific fitness goal, but because I needed something—a way to clear my head and shake off the stress that had been building for months. I laced up a pair of sneakers that weren’t even proper running shoes and headed out the door, figuring I’d just see how far I could go. Spoiler: it wasn’t far.

That first run was slow, awkward, and honestly kind of painful. I couldn’t even make it a full mile without stopping to catch my breath. But something shifted when I finished. Instead of feeling defeated, I felt… accomplished. My face was red, my legs were sore, and my chest was still heaving, but I’d done it. I’d started.

From that point on, running became a challenge I wanted to conquer. It wasn’t easy—I’d skip days when I was tired or talk myself out of going because of the weather—but slowly, something clicked. I started looking forward to those short bursts of effort and the way my mind would calm once I found my rhythm.

At first, I measured my progress by distance. Then it was time—how fast could I run a mile, a 5K, or just to the end of the block? Before I knew it, I wasn’t just running to “get in shape.” I was running because it made me feel strong, grounded, and capable in ways I hadn’t felt before.

At some point, running became more than just a physical challenge—it became a way to tune into myself. On those early morning runs, when the world was still quiet, I’d let my mind wander. Sometimes, I’d think about everything I had to do that day, but other times, I’d just focus on the steady rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement. It felt meditative, almost like pressing a reset button on my mind. On particularly tough days, running gave me space to process frustrations, fears, or doubts. There’s something cathartic about the simplicity of it: one foot in front of the other, breathing in, breathing out.

I also started noticing how running shifted my perspective beyond the moments when I had my sneakers on. Those small victories—running a little farther, shaving a few seconds off my pace—began to build my confidence in other areas of life. If I could push through the discomfort of a steep hill or finish a long run when I wanted to quit, maybe I could handle other challenges too. I stopped looking at obstacles as walls I couldn’t climb and started seeing them as hills I could tackle, step by step.

Of course, not every run was perfect. There were days when it felt hard, sluggish, or frustrating. Days when I wondered if I was improving at all. But those days taught me something too: progress isn’t always linear. Some days you soar; other days, you stumble. And that’s okay. The important thing was that I showed up for myself, even on the hard days.

Running became a kind of quiet rebellion against the version of myself that used to give up when things felt hard. It reminded me of what I was capable of, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. It wasn’t about being the fastest or the strongest—it was about proving to myself, over and over again, that I could keep going.

Now, I use running as a tool to chase my fitness goals, but it’s also so much more than that. It’s my therapy, my stress reliever, and my proof that I can push through even when something feels impossible. Over time, I’ve learned some surprising tricks that make running not just a workout, but a joy—and they’ve helped me hit goals I never thought I’d achieve.

Running made me a better person by teaching me the value of perseverance and self-discipline. It showed me that progress, no matter how slow, is still progress, and that consistency matters more than perfection. Every mile I ran built resilience, both mentally and physically, as I learned to push through discomfort and overcome self-doubt. Running gave me clarity in times of stress, a sense of accomplishment on tough days, and confidence I never thought I’d have. It’s not just the fitness improvements that changed me—it’s the mindset shift, the belief that I can tackle challenges head-on and grow stronger with every step.

Anyways, I’ve written about some of these ways in my other article here:

How to Use Running to Smash Your Fitness Goals

I hope it helps someone else the same way it helped me.