As the nation celebrates Paula Radcliffe's medal-winning success, and athletes experienced and novice prepare for the Darlington 10k tomorrow, Glen Reynolds muses on the benefits of putting on those running shoes.

THERE is no doubt that wanting to run the Darlington 10k, the fun run or even a full-blown marathon, requires some recognition that the body is seeking self-inflicted pain. And distance running involves a special sort of pain and discomfort, a pain, which out of personal discomfort, comes personal growth.

"To everything there is a season," wrote Ecclesiastes in verses subsequently transcribed by the Californian pop group of the 1960s, the Byrds: "And a time to every purpose under a heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die, a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to get and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away."

As I passed my 40th birthday a few years ago, I realised that the wisdom of those words was also reflected in my need to run. It's too easy these days to stay in front of any type of screen, computer or television. So I decided not just to run, but to pick myself up from staring at my computer every day, and run long distances. I found myself not running away from something, but rather towards a sense of the real "myself" or me, which the 21st Century could so easily captivate.

I suppose there is a time to consider every sporting purpose, but three marathons and several Great North Runs later, and a further Darlington 10k on the horizon, I reflect at what can be in it for me, and for you. I'm not going to tell you about physical fitness because I'm no expert on that. What I wanted to share is something about what it is that causes people of all ages (up to 80 years old) to run, as well as race.

I've frequently been beaten by people 20 and 30 years older than myself, as well as a man dressed in a full Womble suit, and a pensioner in her 80s who caught me as I stumbled over the finishing line. I've also witnessed people who, after 26 miles, stop to carry a fellow runner who is literally crawling towards the finish. In distance running, there is all of life.

For me, running has never been about being macho, but about being a better person. United States philosopher and psychologist, William James said in 1892: "Even if the day ever dawns in which it will not be needed for fighting the old heavy battles against nature, muscular vigour will still always be needed to furnish the background of sanity, serenity and cheerfulness to life, to give moral elasticity to our disposition, to round off the wiry edge of our fretfulness and make us good humoured and easy to approach."

Roger Bannister, the first man to break the four-minute mile, said that "running is creative. The runner does not know how or why they run. They only know that they must run, and in doing so they express themselves as they can in no other way. They create out of insecurity and conflict something that gives pleasure to themselves and others, because it releases feelings of beauty and power latent within us all. I believe that we must all find some creative activity in which we can achieve some measure of success."

Distance runners have been stereotyped as having a number of personality characteristics, perhaps due to the release of all sorts of chemicals in the brain whilst running. These include a love of privacy, an overwhelming desire for solitude, daydreaming and poor sleeping habits. I can identify with most of these, perhaps more so being a Quaker, where silence in worship is experienced. Running at 6.30am, if not earlier, provides a great deal of solitude after a restless night fretting over the missed alarm bell and a running partner left abandoned.

Running through Croft and surrounding villages has acquainted me with deer, numerous hares and rabbits, and a variety of birdlife. Even in a race, the exhaustion drags us into ourselves, our inner self, digging into physical and mental resources long forgotten.

Even though there may be hundreds of other runners surrounding you, you are alone and yet part of a massive driving force, the sound of trainers pounding against tarmac thumping in your head. And out of the running rhythm develops your mantra, the synchronisation of the sound of your breath, the pounding of the road and the absence of time.

A glance at your watch tells you that with a bit of luck, 30 minutes has just drifted away into the ether. You were locked into your own solitary self. I have remembered memories and smells, emotions and experiences released from the darkest recesses of my being. For the first time, when I started distance running I came to experience, to truly learn about my mind and body, its strengths and weaknesses. The more you run, the more you touch something inside your body, which grows and makes you a better person.

There is, of course, the self-discipline and pride in all manner of achievement, but in the loneliness of the long distance runner, there is a time for inner peace and reflection.

Achieving a specific time to finish a run, or just finishing, builds up the self-confidence, the mind works faster and goals in life appear closer to completion. But running also taught me to be more critical of myself and of my personal expectations. There comes a stage when you are no longer going to achieve another personal best time. You have to learn to accept your personal limitations. I started running for 20 minutes at one go, then 30 minutes. After the Darlington 10k, I aimed for the Great North. Then you want to complete a marathon. And after a marathon? Success can become elusive. It is at this point that you have to get real, be honest with yourself and accept failure. It's not the end of the world.

Running has taught me humility to accept limitations. But while I might not have the abilities of Paula Radcliffe, it does not stop me from at least making an effort to do my best. Failure is, however, never far away, a fact that leads to insecurity, humility and yet the acknowledgement that out of failure, the seeds of real personal growth are sown. Running can help you discover the very best of you. And, who you are not, nor should become.

When commentators talk of runners having "run the race of their lives", perhaps that observation is made even more appropriate by the fact that the athlete has been running their life through their mind.

As much as I admire her, I am never going to be a Paula Radcliffe. But I think that Paula's distinction is more readily appreciated because there is something of Paula in all of us. She appears humble and honest, a truly brilliant athlete, yet just like the girl next door. Paula is living proof that running is good for your body, and your soul.