
I hate running. I absolutely hate it. It hurts my feet, my knees, my back, and even my shoulders. But for some reason I always sign up to do it. I was on the track team for two years in high school, and I quit the team twice. I ran hurdles, which, although completely ruined my lower back, I didn’t mind. However, I would do everything possible to get out of the several mile warm-up and cool-down. Whenever my hurdle coach told us we had to join the sprinters or long-distance runners for a practice, I would usually run once around the track and then run straight to the locker room.
This goes completely against my perfectionist and competitive personality. I’m haunted by that whole type-A thing because, usually, if I set my mind on something, I follow through. Perhaps that is why I joined the track team again. But then I quit, again. Last year, I set my sights really high and decided I wanted to train for a half-marathon. I bought new shoes. I went to the gym every almost every night. I would get up early in the morning to go running. I even looked up training schedules online. I quit that after two weeks.
As much as I hate running, I hate quitting even more. So that is why I have promised a couple of my friends that I would run with them in the Crazylegs race on April 28th. It is an 8K, which is a lot more achievable than a half-marathon. However, I’m still a little worried that I’m going to fall back to my old ways of taking a nap instead of going for a run. And if I don’t feel like a nap, gorging on Cheez-its and catching up on old episodes of the Real World always seems more enticing than pounding on pavement, being out of breath, and sweating.
But this time, I have support from my friends, which might just make the difference.