I have many love/hate relationships in my life.  Math, TV dating shows, dessert, etc.  But the greatest of all of my love/hate stories has been running.  I love running, in theory: it’s my own time, I can crank up whatever music I want and push myself to literally go farther than I thought was possible.  It is an amazing challenge and there’s a great sense of accomplishment each time I finish a good run, not to mention the obvious health and body benefits that come with a habit of regularly getting my butt out there for a few miles a day.  BUT, then comes the hate.  The five or ten minutes directly before a run where I dread actually getting out on the road/sidewalk/trail/treadmill/track (ugh, track is the worst!), the point somewhere along the way where my energy drops, my shoes seem to weigh 50 pounds each, I hate every song on my iPod, and all there really is to do is keep moving because if I stop then I have to WALK back and when I get there I’m even crankier because if I walked it I obviously could have run it so WTF, lazy person, get back out there and do it again.

Anyway- the running.  A few years ago I took it up pretty seriously and stuck with it and have never been healthier or more fit in my entire life, counting the thirteen years I spent playing competitive soccer.  I even managed to cross over from a love/hate relationship to the kind where you love it all the time but sometimes you maybe get a little annoyed by it because it’s 104 degrees outside and it’s forcing you up another hill, but you are so excited about how good you’ll feel afterward you don’t even mind that you can’t feel your toes.  But you know how it its- life got in the way, I got lazy, I drank a lot of beer, I watched some TV, got a full-time job, and at the end of the day instead of wanting to put on my Nikes and run around I just wanted to sit on the couch, complain about whatever bride yelled at me that day, and watch whatever trashy reality fare the networks had to offer.  So the relationship went from love/hate to love, back to love/hate, and eventually to that awkward post-breakup state where you just kind of avoid each other altogether.  I’ve tried a few times before to get back on the road but I always end up getting frustrated and comparing myself to where I used to be, so I just kind of stopped going.  I’ve managed to stay relatively active most of the time, since I’ve been paying for this ridiculous gym membership, but even though I love kickboxing, spinning, and yoga, nothing really holds my attention like running.

So I’m picking it back up.  Yay!/Boo.  I started on Sunday and am starting sloooow.  Like, really slow.  And I’m being ok with it!  Patience has never been my thing but I feel like I learned a lot about it during the summer and I’ve gotten better at it, so I’m trying this new thing called “chilling out” where I don’t get mad and instead just try to tell myself that it WILL get easier.  Plus it’s not helping that I picked the second week of September to get started, when the temp’s still in the high 90s until well after sunset.  But whatever, it’s gonna get easier. 🙂  I haven’t set any goals yet but I’m eying the half-marathon in February- who knows?  I’m just glad that I’m doing it.  Except for Monday night when I went the sun was already down and it was getting hard to see and I almost got run the frick over by a ten-year-old speeding down the sidewalk on a bike without a helmet on.  Pay attention, child!  I’d be pretty annoyed if I was sidelined with massive trauma at the very beginning of my re-run.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Alice
    Nov 05, 2009 @ 22:19:36

    when you’re running…just think, “pitiful, pitiful” and it will make you laugh/make you not want to be that pitiful runner that our papa wouldn’t approve of (just leave me to that part). glad you’re running. keep it up.


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