A Case For Running

I hate to run.

From the grueling exhaustion, to the joint pain, to the universal fact that time goes by three times slower the second you start running, there isn’t anything to like about it.

I used to hate running so much that I would have preferred to spend a day in jail over running a mile. I remember playing sports in junior high and high school, and bar none the worst thing about the entire experience was the warm-up jogs. In tennis we had to run at least three times around the track every day and that was a good enough reason for me not to come back the next year. I was quite sure that I would never be a “runner.” I was quite wrong.

Three of my immediate family members decided to run a half marathon in 2009. I laughed at them, questioning their sanity and their physical ability to actually accomplish the feat. They trained hard and ran well though, and as I saw them and thousands of other runners cross the finish line, I found inspiration.

Inspiration that somehow penetrated my disgust for running, an inspiration that repressed the wicked memories of that devilish activity. To my own dismay I signed up for a half marathon in Seattle for the following year. 

I was quickly brought back to reality when I started training. Throughout those first couple of weeks, where all I had to do was run one or two miles, I found myself questioning my sanity and my physical ability to actually accomplish the feat.

I kept reminding myself that I was never going to be a “runner,” that I was out of my element and that I should quit. And I wanted to, but therein lied the beauty. Once I made that commitment, once I told my family and friends, and paid that $120 entrance fee, there was no turning back. I had no excuse to quit.

And it got better. Once I started building my endurance I began to realize that every run didn’t have to feel like a KGB interrogation. I was amazed to find that as I progressed it actually got easier, the exact opposite of what I expected. Two mile runs turned into four mile runs, which turned into eight mile runs. Within a couple of months I was at a physical condition that I had never thought possible for myself.

The excitement and anticipation I felt on race day was surprising. I was both nervous and totally jacked at the same time. I didn’t think it was possible to get so pumped up before running an exhausting thirteen miles. The race was tough but I was ready for it. The elation of crossing the finish line can best be described as euphoric relief. With that last step you’re done and it’s over.

Anyone can run a half marathon and everyone should. At least once. You don’t have to be fast or skinny or young or crazy. You just have to finish, no matter how fast or slow. It requires a unique commitment, one that brings a special sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. But perhaps most importantly it’s a commitment that is hard to break. Tell your friends and your family, and if you can get them to participate then even better, because that sense of camaraderie and obligation will mean more to your training then you could imagine.

Run one and you will never regret it. You might not do another one for as long as you live, and that’s OK. But the experience will be worth all the effort you put in. You’ll feel healthier and stronger. And who knows, maybe you’ll become addicted like me.

Since that first one in 2010, I’ve run in nine more half marathons. Something that I genuinely despised has become a part of my everyday lifestyle. Turns out I don’t hate running. I guess I kind of love it.