You inspire me.

Being on the bike, I crave running. Climbing a hill, I imagine what it would be like to just be me, my glutes, quads, hamstrings, and my awesome neon shoes on that pavement, conquering something that looked so daunting in the distance. I see people out, knowing it took them just throwing on their running clothes and heading out the door to enjoy their workout, and I long to be in their moment. That sense of feeling like you did something hard, you did something good, and it was all for you. No matter what happens the rest of the day, you got your run in. So it's okay.

So when I was doing my long ride, finishing up after a couple chilly hours in the early morning, and I came up to a gal out running, I was humbled. I was speechless. I was inspired. On the trail, in the early hours of a Saturday, this woman was out doing something hard. Doing something good. Doing something for her.

But she was a reminder that it isn't just for her.

This gal did not look like the typical runner. She had a cotton t-shirt on, but underneath, you wouldn't have found chiseled abs and taut, tan flesh. She wasn't wearing a super trendy running skirt, and her running shoes weren't outfitted with the latest technology the running industry has to offer. She was simply a gal out running. And every second of it looked painful, uncomfortable, and knowing what she was feeling, no one would have blamed her for a second for stopping to walk.

But she didn't.

Research has shown that women often do not engage in exercise because they fear what other people will think of them because they do not look like the typical athlete.

I do not consider myself to be a typical athlete (mostly, I'm a mom who runs), but I do know that exercise makes you feel good. It helps you love you, appreciate you, and gives your body the endorphins and fitness necessary to be healthy and happy. So to deny yourself of that goodness out of fear of what others think is a sad commentary on what our society has determined is important.

So I don't look like the typical athlete. I have muscle definition in my arms, slamming legs, and a beautiful collarbone. My stomach looks like someone knocked over the mixing bowl of pancake batter. But I was running enough to be that obnoxious person that would push the pace and still be conversational, so I feel like I can speak for the part of the population you may fear is judging you:

You are amazing. My heart is so full when I see you, because I know what you're doing is so difficult. Running, or any exercise, is awful at first. It is for all of us. The body fights against what is uncomfortable. It's convinced you're dying, and your brain can be your worst enemy, telling you to stop and give up. But your heart keeps you going. Your heart gets that foot to move in front of the other, because you aren't running just for you, are you? You're running for your children. You're running so you will have the energy to play and keep up with them, and be involved with them so they know how important they are to you. You're running for your siblings, so they won't have to watch one of their best friends go through complications related to chronic disease. You're running for your spouse, so you will have the strength to help them through the hard stuff you'll encounter together, and so you can process the suck when you're strengthening your relationship.

You're running for you. You're running to give you the goodness that fitness has to offer, because your heart recognizes that you are worth it. The people you love are worth it. Everything important in your life is worth getting through that awful feeling that your body tells you to give up on when you start running.

And to be witness to that, to be a part of that moment, is truly humbling.

Thank you. Thank you for recognizing you, and your world, are worth it.