In Maui last week, I'd just gotten back from a run.

One of the guys commented that "he didn't like to run."

And he was surprised, I think, when I said, "Me neither!"

Like, here I am, the guy who's trying like hell to get to a place where I can do whatever I want to do, whenever I want to do it, and I'm out doing something I don't want to do.

Of course, "me neither" doesn't fully encompass how I feel about running.

Sometimes, I like to run.

There are days - like an early summer morning when the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Rearview Mirror by Pearl Jam is hitting just right on the playlist.

On those days, I love to run.

But sometimes - like in the middle of winter when it's raining - I fucking hate it.

Or, like when I'm in Maui, and the rest of the crew has cracked a beer and moved to the front porch, but I still need to run.

I hate it, then, too.

But I don't run because I like it.

I don't run because it's healthy.

And I don't run to "stay in shape."

I run for preparedness.

I want to get from point A to point B using only my two feet as quickly as possible when the need arises.

Just a few weeks ago, that need arose.

Julia and I were camping in Wilson Creek and had driven over to the Harper's Creek trailhead to have breakfast before hiking.

In the parking lot, I had the truck all opened up. The bumper swung out, the tailgate down, and all the camper side doors opened. We had our food spread out - fruit, cheese, yogurt, nuts - and a stove with a pot of water boiling for coffee.

Scattered about on the ground around the truck were backpacks, water bottles, and other gear that was either being organized for the hike or packed away since we were heading home afterward.

Behind me, I heard a vehicle racing down the road. From the sound of the slinging gravel, I could tell it was going way faster than it should have been.

When I heard the crash, I knew they would need help. But in the current situation, the truck was undrivable.

If things were bad, seconds could count.

So, I ran and was at the site in less than a minute.

The truck had slid off the road, crashing into a large boulder on the side of the mountain.

The driver was out of the truck, but the passenger's side had hit the boulder, and his younger brother was trapped inside.

Luckily, he was conscious, breathing, and not bleeding.

I ran back to the truck where Julia had it ready to go. I dropped her off to care for the boys while I went for help since we were in the middle of nowhere without cell reception.

An hour later, the EMT had the younger one cut out of the vehicle, and he walked away.

He wound up extremely lucky.

And I wound up with one more reason to keep running.

Even on the days I hate it.