I Hate Running

Simply stated, I hate running. I always have and, despite any attempts to change, now know I always will.   I can run but I don't enjoy it.  Because of that, I don't care to get any better at it.  Even in recent years as distance running seems to have grown in popularity and I am inundated with pictures and Facebook posts of friends finishing marathons and knocking out five mile runs before breakfast, I can't make myself like running.  I have striven to understand the psyche of a runner.  The thrill of pounding the pavement with nothing but miles stretched out before you.  Even as these thoughts enter my mind I can feel the pain of shin splints returning and experience a sudden burning in my lungs.  Don't get me wrong,  I admire the dedication and drive of runners.  I aspire to it.  But I hate running.

Growing up, one of my best friends was a runner.  She joined the cross-country team at our high school (voluntarily, by the way) and loved running mile after mile until she was so sick she wanted to die.  Somehow that motivated her to keep going.  While we were SO alike in almost every other way, this was one aspect of her nature I couldn't hope to understand.  I, on the other hand, ran an 11 minute mile in junior high.  Not because I couldn't run but because I didn't want to.  I started strong, but eventually the desire to stroll and chat with my friends eclipsed the desire to get to the finish line.  That gene that intrinsically motivates one to run for sport somehow eluded me.  I see no reason to run a distance unless being chased by a bear or facing some other horrifying demise.  I am well aware of the health benefits of running and I enjoy the occasional surge of endorphins.  But I hate running.

I have established that I was not designed to enjoy mile after mile after mile of monotony.  I am not a runner.  I am a sprinter.

Sprinting is different than running.   Yes, it employs the same muscles and movements.  But, sprinting includes short bursts of energy towards a visible finish line.  Sprinting is reactive.  Sprinting involves intensity.  Sprinting doesn't include pacing.  Sprinting is short-lived.

I can run fast and run hard when the end is in sight.  I can give all that I have for short amounts of time.  I am intense and competitive and a sprinter needs to be.  I am a sprinter.

But I've always been told life is a marathon.  And sprinters aren't suited to run marathons.  Marathons require stamina, patience, and pacing.  Marathons require remaining focused on the goal when it isn't in sight.

Here we are on the outset of 2013 and I feel like a sprinter at the start of a marathon. I have no doubt I can and will start fast and hard.  I might even take the lead out of the gate.  But, my burst of energy will quickly run out.  I'll quit running and walk for a while until I get another burst of motivation.  Then I'll take off again with the same intensity.  But when that runs out, I'll stop and walk again.  Eventually, I'll get to the finish line, but it will be way behind the other runners.

So this year my resolution is simple.  I'm not making a list of things I hope to accomplish by year's end.  I have one goal in mind and that is... to stop viewing life as a marathon. 

That doesn't mean I don't hope to accomplish anything.  I have a "to do" list that's 26 miles long.  It doesn't mean I won't set goals for myself.  It just means that I will have to set smaller more attainable goals.  What do I hope to accomplish this week,  maybe this month?  I don't need to worry about the next step until I'm poised to take it.  I'll face this year as a series a small races I know I can finish and finish strong and I'll leave the marathon to the runners.  Because, after all, I hate running.