Who Runs for Fun?

Cowboys don’t tend to run a whole lot.

Maybe it’s the boots or the jeans. Perhaps it’s because a lot of them don’t have a bunch of downtime, or I suppose it could be somehow linked to the fact that they chose a profession where an animal (or buggy) generally carries them to where they need to go. I don’t know. But I do know that a good majority of the cowboys, rural folks and horse people I know don’t want to run just to run. It’s not fun.  

And me? Well, I’ve been a runner for as long as I can remember, and most of my social circle doesn’t fully understand why. 

Truth be told, it’s something that I don’t fully understand. I’m not exceptionally fast, and it isn’t always rewarding when I do it. But I think maybe that’s part of the reason I like it. It’s not social — I need to find time to be alone. It’s not something I make competitive.

Riding and working on improving my horses are huge, wonderful parts of my life, but it’s become competitive. It’s social. It’s financially motivated at times. It’s ups and downs and struggles and rewards, and I’m constantly somewhere on the rollercoaster between a peak and a valley. But running? It’s two shoes and a path. It’s me and my feet, going somewhere and nowhere simultaneously. 

But, I still get chuckled at regardless. When I was younger and ran almost daily, I was always getting passed on the road by people I knew, generally in pickups and trailers. 

“Why on earth you runnin,’ Kel? Someone chasin’ ya?” 

“I can give you a ride if you need one. You only got so many steps in ya, you know.” 

“Why would you do that when you can ride?” 

Well, my friends, there’s not a ton of sense to it, but there’s a little.   

See, there are a lot of times in our line of work where short bursts of urgency are necessary, and having strong legs and a good lung capacity sure helps. 

Just the other day, we came home, and some of our broodmares had gotten in with our cattle in our front field. We needed to kick cattle across the road, shut the mares in a neighboring trap and get it all done while a storm was firing up fast and shooting lightning across the county skies. The clouds kept building and threatening to pour, and we were running out of daylight. I jumped out of the pickup, and took off across the field, pumping my arms and legs, driving mares and peeling off cattle (they are broke to a call, so that part was fairly simple). They went where they needed to, luckily. Meanwhile, the thunder was growling, and the sky was spitting. I shut the gate to the mares, ran back to the pickup and got to the barn right as the rain began to fall. 

I’m not some great runner. I know there are people who can get there quicker and more impressively, and a lot of them don’t even really train for it. But I like running. I like being in shape and ready for a physical challenge. I expect a lot out of my horses and their fitness. I give them plenty of attention and try to alternate between strength training and cardio in addition to my attempts to guide them on how to be better under saddle and do a job. I expect the same for myself. To keep myself strong, protected and healthy, I need to push my fitness levels and stay on the right side of things. It makes all our jobs easier. 

Anyway, I don’t really care much about opinions on the topic. Running keeps my mind right, and it helps me work problems out in my head as my feet are moving fast enough to keep it all greased and going. It feels like a privilege and not a punishment, and as long as I’m able, I will keep it a part of my life. 

But next time I get teased, I hope I find myself someday in the alley with said cowboy and a hooky, irritated mother cow. I would like to see who gets to the fence quicker and with more air at the end. 

And then I can turn to him and offer him a hand up on the fence before she gets him down, grin and say, “Well, maybe now it makes a little more sense to you as to why I run.”