I have a love-hate relationship with running. I’ve always admired runners and their determination (not to mention their physiques), but I just can’t seem to become a runner myself. I’ll try it, fleetingly, for a day or day, then give up for more enjoyable exercise (or, honestly, the Wii). The precise reason eludes me, although I’ve been given to blame flat feet, achy knees, big boobs, asthma, and time-constraints.
But I signed up for a 5K run with some of my mom friends at the beginning of the year. The run takes place next Sunday. I thought I would have plenty of time to train for the run, by which time I would realize that I really do enjoy running and therefore keep it up indefinitely. Only I still don’t enjoy it. I trained diligently for about a month, increasing in both time and distance on track with that 5K. Then I took a two week break due to colds and weather. When both cleared up this morning, I found myself dreading the restart.
Hey, I told myself. I could try a new training philosophy, being “Let’s not train at all and see how far I can run without any prep!”
Which was tempting. But a cop out. So I strapped on my shoes and went for that run. All the way to the donut store and back. Because nothing celebrates dedication and 2.5 miles like trans fat.