I don’t know about men, but among women running seems to be a kind of happy plague. You know a friend who runs so you give it a shot, and then another friend sees you happier, more fit, and sporting sassy little running skirts, and she gets in on the action too. Whether we’re actively recruiting runners or not, running seems to spread among women like a flu through a preschool. The irony is that while experience might qualify you to give some guidance, advising newbies is tricky business once you’ve logged enough miles, because it can be hard to have perspective on the effort required to make it ten minutes without walking. As a result, I’ve learned it’s better to point someone to a book on the run/walk method than to blurt out a well-intentioned but ultimately inappropriate, “Come on! Anyone can run a 5K!” Unless giving advice with the huge caveat to seek a second opinion, I usually limit my tips to favorite running music, the importance of good shoes, and how to drink water from a paper cup at a water stop without pouring it on your face (squeeze and crease the rim).

Although I don’t want to proselytize for the Temple of Running, I will get up on the pulpit to share one of the things that I believe a new runner should remember during that first challenging effort to go from a walk to a run. Here it is: Running accepts you for who you are and lets you be an athlete anyway.

Whether your distance is measured in steps or miles, running them allows you to be someone you never thought you’d be. Were you a quiet, brooding anti-jock in high school? Running doesn’t care. You put on the shoes and pick up the pace, and you’re an athlete, regardless of who you were before and what you look like now. Sure, you won’t necessarily feel like an athlete for a while, and all runners have days when we don’t identify this way, but the beauty of running is how it forgives you your body fat percentage, your minutes per mile, and your place in the standings if you just make the effort to run.

There’s an oft-referenced quote from running guru George Sheehan, who said, “The difference between a jogger and a runner is an entry blank,” instructing us that daring to join the race entitles you to this awesome identity. But Sheehan also told us, “Everyone is an athlete. The difference is that some of us are in training and some are not.” The point here is that we’re not in high school, where somehow we get channeled into those who are athletic and get the jacket and those who are left out in the cold. We’re grown-ups and get to decide who we are. We can buy the jacket.

And we have potential to be what we might not think was permitted of us or what seems unlikely or what might daunt us into quitting. I truly believe that the risk to feel winded after a tenth of a mile is worthwhile because there are few domains in life that will accept us where we are, make us feel so truly alive, and invite us back for more. Running will. It empowers women to feel strong and capable and takes us far beyond the gratification of fitting into our jeans. This, in my opinion, is the essence of the running contagion.

Here’s to the happy plague.

KRISTINA PINTO was an academic in gender and psychology and is now a mother, runner, and writer currently working on a book about how running enhances motherhood. She also blogs for the Competitor Group at Marathon Mama »

Related Chi: What Is An Athlete?