Ok, This is where I have to backtrack a little. Maybe eat a little crow.
For a long time, I said I would never run (I believe I employed the phrase, only if being chased by someone with a chainsaw), that runners were crazy (I still maintain that runners are crazy), and that I don’t “get” people who run for fun,(It’s true, I don’t).
I also said that as I chain-smoked my way through a pack-a-day cigarette habit. Which explains why I never thought about running, let alone any form of exercise.
In high school we were forced to run, once a quarter, a full mile! A Whole MILE! And we were graded on it as well, by time. Most times I finished in the 17-18 minute mile range. Once I ran it in 12:55 and I wanted to die. Seriously wanted to die; instead, I had a cigarette and everything was better.
For the better part of my life, I’ve made fun of runners, in fact, It used to be once of my favorite past-times. Runners were easy targets, running down the street, for impossible distances, some getting up at 4 in the morning to eat a large meal before subjecting themselves to 26.2 miles in the driving rain?
Who does that?
What I’ve been getting at, is this: Ever since I started running in August, I’ve never felt better, not only physically, also in terms of general well being. Sure, my muscles ache, my feet are sometimes sore and my lungs feel like they want to jump out of my chest and slap me repeatedly, but in the short time I’ve been running, which I’ve done consistently, I have managed to shed off about 35 pounds and I’m in clothes that I had given up on.
Just a moment of comparison; This was me in 2007:
And here’s me from two weeks ago:
The best part of running is that I get to eat cupcakes and not feel guilty. There is also a total sense of accomplishment when you complete a run at this distance:
So there, that’s what I get for being so Anti-running. Even though I have a long way to go, I get why people do it, I still think they’re crazy and yes, that is my running shoe in my mouth.