Best 12552 quotes in «running quotes» category

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’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 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 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’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 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 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 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 traditional approach to an unknown risk is avoidance.

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.

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.

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 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.

Treadmill sweat isn't as sweet as trail sweat.

Train, don't strain.

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.

Today, I run for pure, absolute joy.

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.

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

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

Two joggers passed, shoes cheerfully slapping against the pavement.

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.

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?

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

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.

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

We knew not where we were going. We only knew that we must run, run to the end of the world, run to the end of our days.

Wars aren't won by running.

When Douglas walked, his mind ran, when he ran, his mind walked.

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?

We're still on the run. That's for sure. Right on. This time we're on. And we won't stop till we win.

What else is there to do in this world but love other people?

What’s at the core of your desire to run a marathon? Couple this journey with value beyond miles. The meaning you ascribe to your effort crystalizes your motivation and fuels your commitment to stay the course and go the distance.

When a man's running, he seldom looks back.

Whenever we have fifteen free minutes, an hour or two, we have the habit of using our computers or cell phones, music, or conversations to forget and to run away from the reality of the elements that make up our beings.

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.

When I consider the teachings, doctrines and what happens generally in the body of Christ both here in Europe, America and in Africa, I sometimes feel that I am living in my own reality. Either the whole world is getting it wrong or I am just running crazy

When I first started running, it was easy. I was young and healthy. Then I quit and had to start again years later when I was neither strong nor healthy. But once my feet hit the pavement, my body took over and every step was a victory.

When it's pouring rain and you're bowling along through the wet, there's satisfaction in knowing you're out there and the others aren't.

We’re not born running up mountains. Most of us don’t even figure out we’re capable of such a feat until later in life. Along the way, we make a lot of mistakes. Some of us even hit rock bottom. And then we pick ourselves up, dust off the dirt, and start climbing — sometimes literally. Running is a transformative experience in mind, body and spirit for so many. It helps us face inner demons and shush the naysayers — especially when those naysayers are ourselves.

When I am running I inhabit and exit my body in the same moment. I bear witness to the harshest of physical sensations, even while I feel myself flying free and away. I do not want to remember what has happened to me. I do not want to reflect on the past. I can't in a way. I'm not made for regrets.

When you run, the road belongs to you.

When your body gets tired, let your spirit take the next lap.