Most people run for one of four reasons: losing weight, training for races, showing off for hot, athletic people and evading the police. I am 6’3” and weigh somewhere between 160 and 170 lbs, I hate comparing my times to other people, hot girls just naturally flock to me and I have never committed a felony. While one of those four statements might be false, I obviously do not fit any of the traditional categories, which brings me to the title of this article.

I run because I am a busy person. When I run, I literally cannot think about how I’m going to write about Japanese nationalism because I have to constantly control my breathing and convince myself to go against my rational instinct that is trying to convince me to turn off at the 72 Street entrance and walk my sorry ass back. Running is a welcome and necessary retreat that you can go on whenever you like (or until your legs give out, again) and it doesn’t leave you completely over your head in the work you were escaping.

I run because it allows me to focus my energy later. People have a hard time focusing on boring tasks. School in general is a boring task. I have come up with the lamest excuses to distract me from my schoolwork before, like offering to go on a random errand with a friend. A run leaves me with no will to do anything remotely physical, so I can easily focus the energy I would use for these distractions on my schoolwork.

I run because it gets me outside. That passageway between Lowenstein and McMahon is the reason why I am now roughly three shades paler then I should be this late in the year.

If I didn’t run, my only regular encounter with fresh air and sunlight would be walking to and from class through the plaza, and even that leaves me with a nice whiff of second-hand smoke right before I enter Lowenstein. When I run in Central Park, I can honestly say what the weather was like today and long stays in my dimly lit room seem more bearable.

Most of all, I run because it clears me of any guilty or negative feelings. Say I just got a care package in the mail and I plan on running a train through an entire box of Thin Mints. I can run as a punishment for how far I am about to set back my nutrition and have a completely clear conscience when I open that green box of bliss. Maybe I’ve been in a pissy mood all day because I ran out of soap in the shower. A good run will make me completely forget what was bothering me, mainly because the only thing I will feel afterward is pain. In my experience, a run also fully makes up for: bombing a midterm, insulting a friend, watching five seasons of “The Office” in two weeks, eating someone’s food in your fridge and everything you don’t remember doing last night.

Yes, there are health benefits to running, especially when you force yourself to do as many sit-ups and pushups as possible after (50 and 30 respectively; don’t be mean), but honestly, I don’t care too much about that right now. I might need to run when I’m older to keep myself healthy, but now, the mental benefits are all I need to convince myself to put on my high school gym uniform, lace up and get owned by that damn hill one more time.