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 a small flight of stairs. The legs refuse to work like legs should. God forbid you have to jog across a street to make a light.

Running is a hassle. If you're training for a race, you have to run at least five times a week, doing a variety of workouts. Not only is the running hard, it's a pain to find time slots to squeeze in a workout. In my newspaper days, I was known to go for training runs during my nights on the copy desk.

And still. This time of year, there I am on the treadmill five days a week. It would be wonderful, for the purposes of this blog, if I was able to give a totally uplifting and redeeming statement about why running is amazing. Can't do that.

The truth is I started running 10 years ago because I was fat. I ran because I ate. But one thing has always been true about me. I'm a competitor. Eventually, I would find another reason to run.

Running is about achieving goals. I've only run a couple of half marathons. At the end of the first, I cried. It was something about achieving something you didn't think was possible. It was something about doing something big. It was something about pride in yourself. It was something.

And so I talk to myself on the treadmill. You're running against time. Keep going. You're running against your age. Let's do this. One last shot at this. The surgery last summer was a setback. Keep going. It's worth it, when you cross that finish line.

But God, I hate running.