Best 11 quotes in «runner quotes» category

A runner is always attempting to control everything- time, energy, form, workouts, food intake, hydration- yet simultaneously conscious that she shouldn’t become controlled by any one variable. She is the agent. It’s as if each discipline is a necklace, and a runner must know when to put one on, when to take one off, when she can handle more than one, when she can’t . If all runners lose this talent for calibration, they end up wearing all the necklaces at once, and they sink. In other words, the art of elite running is often about the negative space. It’s less about knowing when to run; more about knowing when not to.

There is a tremendous amount of farting in prison.

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.

And, finally, I run because there's no better way to see the sun rise and set.

From one side what Steve Jobs has planted in his brain "That everyday is his last day..." - is a great idea and I can support it. But to think that everyday will be your last they won't be some kind a wanting to die soon or to be more close to say to fate "Come here, I want to die. Please take first my soul then the other people soul?". Sometimes by doing this and saying in my mind I feel like this I challange the fate. You can check out the film about Paul Averhoff - Check out what this guy has done he is runner, but look what happen in his life!

I was running and deliberately lost my way. The world far off and nothing but my breath and the very next step and it’s like hypnosis. The feeling of conquering my own aliveness with no task but to keep going, making every way the right away and that’s a metaphor for everything.

I ope ya don't mind, Charlie, but I borrowed one a ya effs.' 'Ya did?' 'Yeah.' he smiled. 'I told 'im to start finkin' smart.

I'm just scared I won't run as fast as I did my freshman year,' I admitted, choking back tears. Coach Woj looked at me for a moment, his eye gentle. 'You don't have to.

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.

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.

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