Best 12552 quotes in «running quotes» category

The Goober was beautiful when he ran. His long arms and legs moved flowingly and flawlessly, his body floating as if his feet weren’t touching the ground. When he ran, he forgot about his acne and his awkwardness and the shyness that paralyzed him when a girl looked his way. Even his thoughts became sharper, and things were simple and uncomplicated—he could solve math problems when he ran or memorize football play patterns. Often he rose early in the morning, before anyone else, and poured himself liquid through the sunrise streets, and everything seemed beautiful, everything in its proper orbit, nothing impossible, the entire world attainable. When he ran, he even loved the pain, the hurt of the running, the burning in his lungs and the spasms that sometimes gripped his calves. He loved it because he knew he could endure the pain, and even go beyond it. He had never pushed himself to the limit but he felt all this reserve strength inside of him: more than strength actually—determination. And it sang in him as he ran, his heart pumping blood joyfully through his body.

Their hearts, lost in thought, slowly tick away time.

Their hearts, lost in thought, slowly tick away time. When we pass each other on the road, we listen to the rhythm of each other's breathing, and sense the way the other person is ticking away the moments.

The marathon will humble you. But the truth is, sometimes it will do more than humble you. Sometimes it will break your heart.

The marathon is less a physical event than a spiritual encounter. In infinite wisdom, God built into us a 32-km racing limit, a limit imposed by inadequate sources of the marathoner's prime racing fuel - carbohydrates. But we, in our human wisdom, decreed that the standard marathon be raced over 42 km. So it is in that physical no-man's-land, which begins after the 32-km mark, that the irresistible appeal of the marathon lies. It is at that stage, as the limits to human running endurance are approached, that the marathon ceases to be a physical event. It is there that you, the runner, discover the basis for the ancient proverb: "When you have gone so far that you cannot manage one more step, then you have gone just half the distance that you are capable of." It is there that you learn something about yourself and your view of life." Marathon runners have termed it the wall. (Chapter 10)

The most valuable lessons in life do not come when you are walking or running. They come when you fall down. You better take them and rise up!

There are some people who think runners are snobs. These people are called non-runners. And they're right, of course. There is a certain hubris you develop when you do things no one else does.

Then, I started running. And everything was as good as it could be.

Then I truly feel like a living being in the middle of this garden of the dead, I'm most definitely alive in here.

There are two goddesses in your heard. The Goddess of Wisdom and the Goddess of Wealth. Everyone thinks they need to get wealth first, and wisdom will come. So they concern themselves with chasing money. But they have it backwards. You have to give your heart to the Goddess of Wisdom, giver her all your love and attention, and the Goddess of Wealth will become jealous, and follow you.

There are many challenges to long distance running, but one of the greatest is the question of where to put on's house keys.

There are no standards and no possible victories except the joy you are living while dancing your run. You are not running for some future reward-the real reward is now!

There are three reasons I failed. Not enough training. Not enough training. And not enough training.

The reason we race isn't so much to beat each other, he understood, but to be with each other.

There is never a destination, just the impulse to grow. My only policy through has been to keep an open mind and whatever I may do, to give it my all.

There's not enough said about winter runing. Running in the winter is like not giving up when the road gets hard. It's about willpower and perseverance and being faithful to your sport.

There was a sound of steel meeting steel. Devin flung a desperate look over his shoulder, saw Hewet fending off two men behind him, and looked ahead in time to see ten men in light armor ride out of the trees up ahead and drive straight for him. He almost swallowed the flute. He threw an arm over his face, too shocked to be terrified, and waited to die.

There was no girls' cross-country team at our high school, since cross-country courses were two or three miles long, and, at that distance, a girl's uterus could fall out.

There were moments in life, Marion thought, when you reached back, baton in hand, feeling the runner behind you. Felt the clasp of their fingers resonating through the wood, the release of your hand, which then flew forward, empty, into the space ahead of you.

There’s nothing wrong with you at all. Sometimes people say or do things that are mean because there's something the matter with them. With Lydia, it seems there’s always something wrong with her.

There were days so clear and skies so brilliant blue, with white clouds scudding across them like ships under full sail, and she felt she could lift right off the ground. One moment she was ambling down a path, and the next thing she knew, the wind would take hold of her, like a hand pushing against her back. Her feet would start running without her even willing it, even knowing it. And she would run faster and faster across the prairie, until her heart jumped like a rabbit and her breath came in deep gasps and her feet barely skimmed the ground. It felt good to spend herself this way. The air tasted fresh and delicious; it smelled like damp earth, grass, and flowers. And her body felt strong, supple, and hungry for more of everything life could serve up. She ran and felt like one of the animals, as though her feet were growing up out of the earth. And she knew what they knew, that sometimes you ran just because you could, because of the way the rush of air felt on your face and how your legs reached out, eating up longer and longer patches of ground. She ran until the blood pounded in her ears, so loud that she couldn't hear the voices that said, You're not good enough, You're not old enough, You're not beautiful or smart or loveable, and you will always be alone. She ran because there were ghosts chasing her, shadows that pursued her, heartaches she was leaving behind. She was running for her life, and those phantoms couldn't catch her, not here, not anywhere. She would outrun fear and sadness and worry and shame and all those losses that had lined up against her like a column of soldiers with their guns shouldered and ready to fire. If she had to, she would outrun death itself. She would keep on running until she dropped, exhausted. Then she would roll over onto her back and breathe in the endless sky above her, sun glinting off her face. To be an animal, to have a body like this that could taste, see hear, and fly through space, to lie down and smell the earth and feel the heat of the sun on your face was enough for her. She did not need anything else but this: just to be alive, cool air caressing her skin, dreaming of Ivy and what might be ahead.

The road for runners is paved with answers, clarity, and peace.

The runner knows something the rest of us are busy forgetting: to get stronger, you have to go on until you are uncomfortable, and then go on a while longer. It is in that place where discomfort happens but activity is still possible that growth and development happen.

The Runner’s Prayer I pray that I may run, Until my dying day. And when it comes to my last race, I then most humbly pray: When checking in for the Lord’s great race, And standing there a sinner, That God in his mercy finds me, Qualified to enter.

The runner is coming to know, or will know if he runs enough...that the universe is the smallest divisible unit.

The sunrise was the most amazing part of the day. The quiet of the block seemed even more silent when I watched the light make its way effortlessly into the world. Its serenity bathed itself in the rose colored light above bleeding into the sky. The road was vulnerable. The pink and the orange seeped onto the street and lit up my path, just for me. I saw it in front of my feet and it pulled me forward, my footsteps hitting the gravel. I wanted to run into it, to dive feet first and plunge into the harmony of my safe haven. It serenaded me into a calm sense of security. A calm idea that everything was just the way it was supposed to, and everything else, would always get better. Siempre mejorando.

The shadow self is what lies beneath the makeup. It’s those ugly parts that you haven’t accepted about yourself. You hide those parts in the shadows until you’re ready.” Her face remained a haunting calm. “When you realize the scars are who you are, that there was nothing wrong with you and that you were beautiful all along - that’s when you decide to take the makeup off.

The streets are empty and quiet this early in the morning and I can hear my own footsteps as they fall. I can never forget the imperfections in these brick sidewalks, where they rise and dip around tree roots, where loose segments can make you stumble and fall. Mom is right, the morning is cooler than I expected, but I am committed to the cold air sting that will soon turn to an unbearably soggy heat. Such is the way of a city built on a swamp.

The traditional approach to an unknown risk is avoidance.

Tommy and Scootie locked eyes. Only minutes ago, he wouldn't have believed that he could ever have felt such a kinship with the Labrador as he felt now.

This isn't a drill, sir!" "What d'you mean this isn't a drill?" It couldn't be! It wasn't possible. Things like that only happen in blockbuster sci-fi movies, not in real life! "It's not a drill, sir! This is the real thing! You'd better get up here right away sir! Sir? Sir!" But Commander Ortez was already on his way -- and he was running. When he eventually made his theatrical entrance on the bridge, nothing had happened yet. He wheezed. "Well?" He appealed, ready for anything. After that, this had better not be a drill. Or else.

Today, I run for pure, absolute joy.

The world, with its commonsensical viewpoint, thinks their lifestyle is peculiar. And it would be hard to argue with anyone who labeled them eccentrics and oddballs. But there’s something we share, not something as exaggerated as solidarity, perhaps, but at least a warm emotion, like a vague, faintly colored mist over a late-spring peak. Of course, competition is part of the mix -it's a race, after all- but for most of the people participating triathlon the competitive aspect is less important than the sense of a triathlon as a sort of ceremony by which we can affirm this shared bond.

They continued to run together for the next thirty minutes. Not a word between them, only the unspoken pulse of the run. Jacob believed runners shared an implicit doctrine: push through the pain to hit a point where it doesn't hurt anymore.

Think Easy, Light, Smooth, and Fast. You start with easy, because if that's all you get, that's not so bad. Then work on light. Make it efforthless, like you don't give a shit how high the hill is or how far you've got to go. When you've practiced that so long, that you forget you're practicing, you work on making it smooooooth. You won't have to worry about the last one - you get those three, and you'll be fast.

This is your first marathon. Possibly, you’ll want it to be your last. Focus on future races draws energy from the one in front of you. Like the mileage that comprises them, train for marathons one at a time.

Those runners who hit their second wind know find something most of the world never discovers.

Those who never run long distance or meditate in their lifetimes, miss out on the best free drugs the planet has to offer.

Treadmill sweat isn't as sweet as trail sweat.

Train, don't strain.

Training was a rite of purification; from it came speed, strength. Racing was a rite of death; from it came knowledge

Ultramarathons have a way of stripping you bare. All the outside layers are peeled away like an onion and you are left alone with your doubts and fears and a finish line that feels an eternity away.

Two joggers passed, shoes cheerfully slapping against the pavement.

Under every layer of pain, another layer of recovery lies in wait, the sweet, forever surprising truth of endurance.

Until you find out what you are running from, you will never figure out where you are going.

Većinu onoga što znam o pisanju naučio sam zahvaljujući svakodnevnom trčanju. To su sasvim praktične, tjelesne lekcije. Dokle mogu forsirati samog sebe? Koliko odmora mi je potrebno, a koliko pretjerano? Koliko daleko mogu otići, a još uvijek biti pun samopouzdanja i dosljednosti? Kada sve postaje prenapregnuto i odveć opterećujuće? Do koje mjere trebam biti svjestan vanjskog svijeta i do koje se točke trebam koncentrirati na svoj unutarnji sklad? Do koje mjere se smijem pouzdati u svoje sposobnosti i kada trebam početi sumnjati u samog sebe?

Uživat ću i vrednovati ono što se ne može izraziti brojkama, tražit ću osjećaj ponosa koji dolazi s drugačijeg mjesta.

Vigil couldn't quite put his finger on it, but his gut kept telling him that there was some kind of connection between the capacity to love and the capacity to love running. The engineering was certainly the same: both depended on loosening your grip on your own desires, putting aside what you wanted and appreciating what you got, being patient and forgiving and undemanding.

We're all Running People, as the Tarahumara have always known. But the American approach -- ugh. Rotten at its core. It was too artificial and grabby, Vigil believed, too much about getting stuff and getting it now: medals, Nike deals, a cute butt. It wasn't art; it was business, a hard-nosed quid pro quo. No wonder so many people hated running; if you thought it was only a means to an end--an investment in becoming faster, skinnier, richer--then why stick with it if you weren't getting enough quo for your quid?

Wars aren't won by running.