“At least we would know that the sparks didn’t glow,
But we owe it to ourselves to try
So we aim and ignite!”
–fun., “Light a Roman Candle with Me”
Miles since last time: 103.5
Total Miles: 1103.5
I think there’s something wrong with my brain.
Anyone who knows me knows that I hate running–I mean in a super-ultra-mega-mortal-enemy sort of way. Even more than planking.
I trace these very strong feelings back to my middle school days, when I was always, always, the slowest girl in P.E. You may think I’m exaggerating when I say always, but I am not. Every single day, I would see a line of girls waiting on the sidelines of the gym while I wheezed my way across the finish line a solid twenty seconds behind everyone else.
Even when I started taking a cardio-kickboxing class in high school and the instructor would say, “Hey, let’s jog a few laps around the block,” I was still always the last person to come back into the building.
I’m just slow, I’ve never really found much joy in running, and I’ve never had any desire to do it if someone wasn’t forcing me.
I realize that I am probably being unreasonable and that running is supposed to be one of the best exercises you can do, but I really haven’t cared about that for a while. It’s hard and stuff.
Lately I’ve been thinking more and more about my most hated exercise.
I’ve been thinking, I wonder how long I would last now.
As much as I hate to admit it, I am more than a little curious as to how far I could go if I just started jogging. Probably not more than a few feet–we’re certainly not talking Forrest Gump mileage, here–but I do wonder.
My mind keeps fluctuating between “How bad could it be?” and “Are you crazy? RUNNING IS NOT ENJOYABLE!”
Someone please tell me what is wrong with my brain. I probably have a tumor, right? That’s the only explanation. Or some sort of delusion of fitness grandeur. I can’t help but feel that the urge to run is either really good or really bad. Am I being masochistic, or trying to improve? I’m quite torn about it.
Here’s the thing: I may be increasingly intrigued by the prospect of testing myself, but I can’t exactly ignore the strong inclination to avoid embarrassing myself again, either. Planking thoroughly won in that battle. Running would surely do the same.
So, will my curiosity outweigh childhood misgivings? Will any of this week’s miles be from running? The scales are slowly tipping that way. Stay tuned.