Best 12552 quotes in «running quotes» category

Remember, it’s the pace that kills, never the distance.

Right before you head out running, it can be hard to remember exactly why you're doing it. You often have to override a nagging sense of futility, lacing up your shoes, telling yourslef that no matter how unlikely it seems right now, after you finish you will be glad you went. It's only afterward that it makes sense, although even then it's hard to rationalize why. You just feel right. After a run, you feel at one with the world, as though some unspecified, innate need has been fulfilled.

Running alone can allow you to hit the mute button on the world... and take full advantage of exercise's stress-busting benefits. 'Running alone can be a meditative experience where you get to really think and concentrate or completely clear your mind and zone out,' a psychotherapist Michelle Maidenberg says, ... 'You have to practise letting go of the inner chatter that can get in the way of what you want to accomplish,' sports psychologist Cindra Kamphoff says, 'And that's something you have to do on your own.

Running away from someone you love is a race you will never win.

Run! Life's too short to walk. Unless you don't know where you're running to, then move very slowly.

Runners don't quit. We fade; we "hit the wall"; we're sometimes reduced to a walk. But we keep on.

Running away from uncertainty and confusion but most of all running away from myself. I thought I might become someone else in time, grafted on to something better and stronger. And then I saw that the running away was a running towards. An effort to catch up with my fleet-footed self, living another life in a different way.

Running changes you from the inside out.

Running efficiently demands good technique, and running efficiently for 100 miles demands great technique. But the wonderful paradox of running is that getting started requires no technique. None at all. If you want to become a runner, get onto a trail, into the woods, or on a sidewalk or street and run. Go 50 yards if that's all you can handle. Tomorrow, you can go farther.

Running in the wind, in the pollen and dust, a flower in flight

Running is a big question mark that's there each and every day. It asks you, 'Are you going to be a wimp or are you going to be strong today?

Running is a form of practiced stoicism. It means teaching your brain and body to be biochemically comfortable in a state of disrepair.

[Running] is a hard, simple calculus: Run until you can’t run anymore. Then run some more. Find a new source of energy and will. Then run even faster.

Running is cheap therapy.

Running is a mental sport, more than anything else. You're only as good as your training, and your training is only as good as your thinking.

Running is just such a monestary-- a retreat, a place to commune with God and yourself, a place for psychological and spiritual renewal.

Run for fun. Run for exercise. Run for a better life.

Run, leap and celebrate for you are alive today!

Run likes you’re chasing somebody who owes you money.

Runners don’t just run to strengthen their bodies, they run to strengthen their spirits.

Running is alone time that lets my brain unspool the tangles that build up over days” – Bob Hneisen

Running is exercise for the body and the brain.

Running is not just exercise for your body, it tends to get your whole life in better shape.

Running is the movement of a free human being. It doesn't demand any special premises or machines. You only need to put on your shoes and get going. Let the blood circulate. Then everything becomes much clearer.

Running is a brutal and emotional sport. It's also a simple, primal sport. As humans, on a most basic level, we get hungry, we sleep, we yearn for love, we run.

Running is an effort to escape from comfort zone.

Running is still running. It doesn't matter if it's a physical move from one place to another or if it's to within yourself.

Running is therapy anyone can afford.

Running … led to a deep happiness that only comes from doing what you love, what your soul screams at you to do upon waking each day.

Running was Clover's favorite thing to do, after reading. She loved the way the cement felt hard and unforgiving under her feet until she reached the park and the dirt path that wound its way alongside the Truckee River. She liked the wind in her face and how it smelled like water. And the way Mango ran beside her, keeping her company. But most of all she liked the way the steady pace untangled her thoughts.

Running is a simple activity. Just lace up your shoes and go, one step at a time, like each breath.

Running is flying 
intermittently

Running is like music. It requires rhythm and focus. It requires dedication. It requires a dogged ability to shut out everything else. The herd is strung out below me, keeping time with the thump and slap of their cross-trainers. I hold the sound in my head and subtract cars, trucks, motorcycles, voices until it’s nothing but a song.

Running isn't a sport for pretty boys...It's about the sweat in your hair and the blisters on your feet. Its the frozen spit on your chin and the nausea in your gut. It's about throbbing calves and cramps at midnight that are strong enough to wake the dead. It's about getting out the door and running when the rest of the world is only dreaming about having the passion that you need to live each and every day with. It's about being on a lonely road and running like a champion even when there's not a single soul in sight to cheer you on. Running is all about having the desire to train and persevere until every fiber in your legs, mind, and heart is turned to steel. And when you've finally forged hard enough, you will have become the best runner you can be. And that's all that you can ask for.

Running keeps me at a physical peak and sharpens my senses. It makes me touch and see and hear as if for the first time. Through it I get through the first barrier to true emotions, the lack of integration with the body. Into it I escape from the pettiness and triviality of everyday life. And, once inside,stop the daily pendulum perpetually oscillating between distraction and boredom...It is the swing from boredom to anxiety, from depression to worry, that exhausts and defeats us. The sure knowledge that we can be much more than we are frustrates us.

Running would help with the weight, but the weight did not help with running.

Running strengthens self-motivation.

Running, the music flew into him, became the wind that pushed back his hair and the slap of his own feet on the pavement.

running with sharp knives never got me so far but running with you seemed lovely

Saeed for his part wished he could do something for Nadia, could protect her from what would come, even if he understood, at some level, that to love is to enter into the inevitability of one day not being able to protect what is most valuable to you. He thought she deserved better than this, but he could see no way out, for they had decided not to run, not to play roulette with yet another departure. To flee forever is beyond the capacity of most: at some point even a hunted animal will stop, exhausted, and await its fate, if only for a while.

Sekali melanggar peraturan yang kuputuskan sendiri, aku akan melanggar lebih banyak.

She can't truly outrun her future, but you can't tell her body that.

She has decided to keep going, as anyone could tell by her closed eyes and calm expression. She realizes that all big decisions are ones that must be decided and decided again. She imagines that when you fall in love, you must decided to be in love a million times or more, and when you go to college, you must decide again and again to stay in college, and the same thing is true when you decide to run across the United States of America after a horrible tragedy. When you are a person who cares for any other person, you must decide again to care, she also understands.

She could spin it between her legs, skip with it, twirl it around her neck and transfer it from one arm to the other. Shelly hooped because she enjoyed it; it calmed her whenever she would have an argument or a bad day at school, and it also allowed her to think. Today, she needed to hoop more than ever.

She didn’t see what everyone else saw. She was too busy fighting for more; for the next victory, in whatever shape it might come- as small as counting the exact number of steps in a flight of stairs, as big as getting in the Ivy League. For a moment, sometimes longer, these victories slowed the treadmill on which her mind churned, the one that made her feel she could never keep up.

Shelly shook her head and made sure she had plenty of space so that she wouldn’t hit anything. As many times before, she kept the hoop close to her waist and then twirled it with small, tight bursts of speed. As the hoop gathered in momentum it started to give off a hum that soon took on a light blue illumination far brighter than the streetlamps. It was so bright, that it lit up the entire backyard.

So everyone is in a hurry These days that we worry Right when we need to breath. Excess of stress we catch, That we forget to stretch Causing pain for miles away, Hence ruining a running day!!

She ran as the first maples started to change color, then the oak. She jumped over roots, she sidestepped brambles, her footfalls echoing off plank bridges traversing streams. She was the first person at practice. The last to go home. She ran for speed. She ran for distance. She stretched carefully first thing in the morning and last thing before bed.

So as soon as I tell myself I'm the first man ever to be dropped into the world, and as soon as I take that first flying leap into the frosty grass of an early morning when even birds haven't the heart to whistle, I get to thinking, and that's what I like. I go my rounds in a dream, turning at lane or footpath corners without knowing I'm turning, leaping brooks without knowing they're there, and shouting good morning to the early cow-milker without seeing him. It's a treat being a long-distance runner, out in the world by yourself with not a soul to make you bad-tempered or tell you what to do.

So I am not a broken heart. I am not the weight I lost or miles or ran and I am not the way I slept on my doorstep under the bare sky in smell of tears and whiskey because my apartment was empty and if I were to be this empty I wanted something solid to sleep on. Like concrete. I am not this year and I am not your fault. I am muscles building cells, a little every day, because they broke that day, but bones are stronger once they heal and I am smiling to the bus driver and replacing my groceries once a week and I am not sitting for hours in the shower anymore. I am the way a life unfolds and bloom and seasons come and go and I am the way the spring always finds a way to turn even the coldest winter into a field of green and flowers and new life. I am not your fault.