A few weeks ago, my mother told someone that I was the writer in the family. I quickly corrected her. I write; I am not a writer.

I feel the same way about running. I ran 10 miles today. I'm running in a half marathon next weekend. But I am not a runner.

Where is the distinction? I suppose with writing it's easier to see. I don't publish the vast majority of what I write, and I don't write for anyone but myself. But how does that translate to running? True, I don't make a living by running, but few people do. So at what point do I get to call myself a runner? After I finish this half marathon, or the Chicago Marathon in October? After I've been running consistently for 5 or 10 years? After I win a race?

Maybe the reason I have trouble identifying with what I do is that I change interests so often. My mother always joked that I was jack of all trades and master of none, and my parents instituted a rule when I was little that I had to stick with my activities for at least a year. And while I've just finished a 12-week training course and have every intention of training for Chicago and later races, past history would suggest that I may not keep running forever.

So, for now, I run.