It’s been a few weeks since I last took a run. I’ve recently moved, started a new job here at Trailblazer, changed paper towel brands, and upgraded to mid grade gasoline: things are changing. So when I walked into West Rock State Park yesterday, running shoes donned, headphones engaged, and chipmunks racing back and forth, it hit me: I’m a runner. For some of you this may be an obvious mind set, but for others who engage in numerous athletic activities, it’s not. We are dabblers. We dabble in this and try a little bit of that. We are the eaters at the buffet holding the hiking trails, mountain bike loops, and kayak marshes. We own the gear, the shoes, the kayak, and the Vibram FiveFingers, but we don’t think of ourselves as centrally attached to any of these activities, as to hold the title of, kayaker or hiker; or in my previous case: runner. All my life I’ve played or dabbled in some sort of sport/activity, only realizing at certain times I was drawn to some more than others. You can say it’s a lot like the dating scene. I’d try something for a bit, maybe visit it again later on, and then decide if I’d like to see her… I mean it, again. My first real relationship was with soccer. She was great, but things got too serious at such a young age. I wanted to just have fun for a while. See what else was out there. Then I turned to skateboarding, a relationship that has had more positive outcomes than negative, which is why we are still amazing friends and keep in touch regularly. This is why, at this specific moment, I felt guilty. I noticed the lengthy time line from the last date I was wearing my running shoes and making it a priority to suffer through my 40 minute loop. Yes, I felt guilty. Why? Well, that’s easy. I’m a runner now.