In the last year, inexplicably, I've caught the running bug. Okay, not really the whole bug, but maybe a few sniffles. I still only put in about 16 miles a week (although I have and will put in more while prepping for a race), and I'm still the big, slow, lumbering guy bringing up the back of the pack.

But I like this thing called running. On some level, I really do.

Recently, I finished Christopher McDougall's Born to Run, a meditation encapsulating endurance running, the human form, and yes, even cosmic peace. It's a fascinating read; I'm excited to learn more about the natural running form of the Tarahumara in Mexico's Copper Canyon, and the various "natural running" techniques built on the principles they follow: landing on the midfoot rather than the heel, keeping the right pace, moving toward a lighter, less controlling shoe...that's all interesting to me.

Just as interesting were the stories of the runners themselves--the people who populated the pages. As I read descriptions of these people, I found myself googling their names just to find out more about them.

Less interesting (to me) were McDougall's explorations of the human body and why we were "born to run." And McDougall, obviously excited by the material, the experience and the energy, goes a bit off the deep end, all but telling us the world would be perfect if everyone just went out for a run together. But that enthusiasm can be excused, can't it? It's part of what makes the book so interesting to read.

The enthusiasm spills over into characterization a wee bit; the runners in the pages are all set up as over-the-top caricatures more than normal living, breathing people. But again, I suppose people who regularly run 100+ mile races aren't, well, normal.

A quote that particularly resonated with me came from Jenn Shelton, the stay-up-all-night-and-run-all-day-party-girl in the book, who says something to the effect of:

When I'm running, it's the only time my brain isn't all...bleh.

That spoke to me, because that's how I feel myself. I find my mind constantly occupied, and running is one of the few things that's a true reset button for the brain. When I'm running, I concentrate on running and nothing else. There's something very...I don't know...cleansing about that.

With that in mind, I'd note that all of the characters in the book share a certain frenetic brain activity level. Barefoot Ted, in a scene while trying to fall asleep, says, "Okay, brain, be quiet now." And the other people display signs of having brains that just won't shut off.

I wonder if, on some level, this is a personality trait of an endurance runner.

In any case, I'm in. After having completed my first half-marathon last year, I'm certainly going to do more half-marathons. Maybe even a full marathon.

I'll be out there, Christopher McDougall, doing my part to promote world peace.