Hitting the Road
You see scenery, I see pain. I hate running. You smile and say, "Yeah, right." But I'm serious. There is nothing about the act of running itself that's enjoyable. It's rare for me to be out on a run and start thinking about how glorious it is. Running is breathing hard. You push yourself, but not too hard. That can be a disaster. But push yourself to go at a steady speed, enough to push your heart rate into the target zone. Running is a mental wrestling match. There's a little voice in my head that says quitty things to me while I'm running. That voice gets louder this time of year. "Hop off, you've done enough. This sucks. Treadmills suck." My response: [Screw] you, keep running. Some people prefer to cheer themselves on during runs. You're doing great. Keep it up. Not me. I talk to myself like a drill sergeant in a dramatic movie. Running is physical pain. After some long runs, my body is so spent that I get out of breath by walking up ...