For most of my adult life, I had a well-rehearsed story: “I’m not built to run. My body doesn’t like it.” I had medical evidence to back it up, an MRI in my early 20s showing a minor meniscus tear. For two decades, that image on a screen gave me permission to avoid something that made me uncomfortable.
At 42, I got tired of my own excuses. My kids were getting older, faster, and I wanted to keep up with them. More importantly, I was exhausted by the stories I kept telling myself about what I couldn’t do. So in late 2022, I started running.
The Science of What’s Happening
Recently, I came across research explaining what running actually does to your brain, and suddenly my experience made sense. When you run, your brain releases BDNF (brain-derived neurotrophic factor); essentially, “Miracle-Gro for your brain.” It promotes neurogenesis and plasticity, improving memory, focus, and decision-making. Running also grows the anterior mid-cingulate cortex, the part of your brain responsible for willpower and enduring challenges.
This explains something I’ve noticed profoundly: when I run, especially in those early 4 AM sessions on my Assault Runner, I have more mental bandwidth for the entire day. The cheap dopamine hits I might otherwise seek, mindless scrolling, unnecessary snacking, and content consumption that doesn’t serve me lose their appeal. Running doesn’t just burn calories; it literally rewires your reward pathways.
The Comfort Trap
At 45, getting out of bed can hurt. My feet might ache, something in my leg might feel off. Every run, I face a choice: listen to these signals as excuses, or recognize them as the discomfort of being human in middle age. The research shows that voluntary discomfort, doing hard things we don’t want to do, actually grows the parts of our brain associated with resilience and willpower.
I’ve learned there’s a difference between injury and discomfort. Injuries need rest and care. Discomfort needs to be challenged. When I override that voice saying “maybe skip today’s run,” I’m not just training my body, I’m training my brain to overcome the resistance that leads to procrastination in all areas of life.
Running as Spiritual Discipline
There’s something almost spiritual about running. As one might think: if I’m not being chased for my life, why would I run? The answer is submission; teaching my body to submit to my will rather than the other way around. I’ve heard running described as “moving meditation” through something called optic flow; objects passing by as you move, calming your mind and enhancing concentration.
This rings true. Running has become my anti-comfort practice. Comfort, I’ve learned, is where poor decisions breed. When I’m seeking comfort, I’m really seeking easy dopamine, which leads to consuming things my body and mind don’t need. Running breaks that cycle.
The Paradox of Pain and Progress
Here’s the irony: running often hurts. One good run is followed by a painful one. My feet hurt, my legs ache. I’ve spent this year experimenting with different shoes, surfaces, and trying to decode my body’s signals. I lost months in 2023 to a non-running injury, finishing at 865 miles instead of my goal of 1,000.
Yet I keep going back. Why? Because running has given me more physical and mental benefits than any other exercise. I’ve lifted weights extensively. This year alone, I’ve logged over 2,300 miles on my bike. But nothing matches what running does for my mental strength and clarity.
Those knees I protected for 20 years with my “torn meniscus” story? They’ve never been stronger.
The Morning Ritual
My 4 AM alarm isn’t about being hardcore. It’s practical. Nobody needs anything from me at that hour, but it’s also strategic. Starting with voluntary hardship shapes my entire day. The research backs this up: running influences neurotransmitters like serotonin and dopamine, regulating mood and reducing anxiety for hours afterward.
When younger, I was quick to quit, quick to make excuses. I dealt with stomach issues that affected me mentally, creating a cycle of feeling unwell and avoiding challenge. Now I understand: the very act of doing something difficult when you don’t want to literally grows the parts of your brain that help you do difficult things in the future.
Still Running
As I write this, I’m planning a 3.5-mile run today. Part of me worries it will hurt, that I’ll be robbed of the enjoyment running should bring. But I know the deeper truth: I’ll be more disappointed in myself if I don’t go.
Because here’s what I’ve learned at 45 that I didn’t know at 35: temporary discomfort is just that; temporary. I can always return to my warm shower and comfortable bed. But a life lived entirely in comfort? That’s where the real pain lies: in the slow erosion of willpower, in the accumulation of excuses, in the stories we tell ourselves about what we cannot do.
Every morning run is a small rebellion against those stories. Every painful step is neurogenesis in action, literally building a better brain. The science says running can reduce all-cause mortality and cancer risk by 30%. But for me, the real miracle is simpler: at 45, I’m finally free from the story I told myself for two decades.
Turns out I am built to run. My body does like it. It just took me 42 years to stop believing my own excuses.