(Originally posted Nov. 9, 2011)
Running is a chore. For me anyway. Just like loading the dishwasher or doing laundry or taking the car for an oil change. It’s just another thing that needs to be done. And I’d much rather sit on teh couch watching my DVR’s episodes of Dexter eating a bag of chips or a Moe’s burrito (Mmmmm, Moe’s) than do any of those things.
Running beats the shit out of you. It chews you up and spits you out and asks you who the fuck you think you are. It’s way more mental than physical, and the physical is a bitch.
But my house can’t function if the laundry isn’t done, or the dishwasher isn’t ran, and my car will leave me starnded if I don’t get the oil changed.
Dexter will be there, waiting for me on the DVR, but the running can’t wait.
I’ll never run a marathon if I don’t do the work.
I know, it can be argued that no one NEEDS to run a marathon. This is true. And the fact remains that I may never run one. But I can try. I have two legs that function. That’s more than some people have. I have the ability, I shouldn’t squander it.
So, whether it’s a 4 min mile or a 14 min mile, it’s still a mile. One after another after another.