That’s what I always thought, anyway. I remember skipping out on running during tennis practice in high school. I remember hating it when I didn’t. I remember scoring very poorly on the “run a mile” portion of phys ed.
I’ve always hated running.
So I’ve signed up for a half marathon.
It’s just a half, so it’s not like it’s a whole marathon or anything. Oh, and I’m not fast. I have no real desire to be fast. My goal is to run the whole distance. That’s it.
It’s going to take me a while. Running a mile in thirteen minutes might actually be somewhat stretching the definition of “running”, but I don’t care. By the end of May I need to be able to run thirteen of them. Speed is not my greatest concern.
The odd part is that I am finding that I enjoy it. Some part of my adult brain has broken in such a way that this is no longer an unpleasant activity. In fact, I look forward to it. After I pick up my boys after a long day at work I run a loop around the field at school. Every time I pass, they cheer. Even without my adoring fans, running has been a great way to enjoy this freakish March weather.
Running with nothing to run from — I’ve always mocked runners, but here I am. Wish me luck.