To Run or Not to Run

I signed up to run in another 5K, and I’ve been apologizing to my former self ever since. A few years ago I gave myself the gift of never running in another 5K. I had run in several. Five makes several, right?

I’m no couch potato, but I’ve never been an athlete either. I just lived with five athletes for a long time. Four have moved out, and I’m still living with my husband who, although he’s a natural athlete, was never a runner until five years ago when he began running the Army Ten-Miler. (Go Army! Beat Navy!!)

Now he tells me yarns like, “You’ll begin to love it. I didn’t like to run either, but…” Uh huh. He’s so excited and supportive about my running that he made me buy a pair of Hoka running shoes. Those are supposed to be really nice footwear. (I would have rather spent money on cute new boots, four or five books, colored pens and quality stationery with thick envelopes. Hey, even new cleaning supplies–people who know me will understand how much I hate running if I want to spend money on Comet and Pledge.)

Those shoes are a big investment especially when I don’t intend to run after the Java Jog is over this coming Saturday morning, so it’s sweet that he wants to protect my feet. My feet aren’t really the problem, however. It’s my heaving lungs desperately grasping for more oxygen. It’s my seriously bad attitude.

If I hate running so badly, why am I running on Saturday? Because my favorite coffee shop, Milltown Java, is sponsoring the event. I love that place. I also love comments from thirty-something friends who say, “I’m impressed,” when they learn I’m running the 5K, and of course I love the comments from my running children who say, “Proud of you, Mom.”

So for the past few days, I’ve been practicing to survive 3.1 miles. Today I ran for the first time at 35 degrees!

Here’s another real reason I’ve decided to run. One of my resolutions this year is to be more determined. I’m determined to do hard things like my children do.

If one of my sons can endure 38 degree, raining weather with no coat for Ranger School (and worse), if the other son can endure a 9-month deployment to Iraq, if my daughters can daily deal with difficult, ridiculous people, then I can run for 3.1 miles.

I still hate running, and I stand by my assertion from an earlier post that the running high I’ve heard about is plain old propaganda hyped by running shoe companies to sell more ridiculously priced shoes.

 

Here’s to the after party, Saturday afternoon and evening with books and movies and deliciously appropriate beverages!