In high school I ran 5Ks mostly for the race t-shirt. In college, I ran off and on in the gym because I never learned how to use the machines. Post college I ran at least one 5K a year (either Komen or the Turkey Trot) just because its for a good cause. But then sometime after having the kid, I decided that my bucket list included running a half marathon. So in 2009 I trained for and finished the San Antonio Rock N Roll Half. The training was hard and I didn't train very well. The race was hard. It was the most humid day I'd ever run and I nearly called it quits several times. But after I crossed that finish line and got my finisher's medal, I was already planning my next half.
Well that didn't happen for a while. After the adrenaline of running 13.1 miles wore off, I was sent right back into reality. I really don't love-love to run and I never experience runner's high. I do love when I have a great easy run because the weather is perfect (not too cold, not too hot) and my playlist is really good. Those days I could run 6-7 miles fairly easily. But when its hot, humid, I didn't sleep well the night before, didn't eat the right thing or my socks are bothering me, I can barely squeak out 3 miles. Those are the days that I question why I do something that I loathe so much.
I have a serious love/hate relationship with running. I enjoy the alone time on the road. I love knowing that my body, however out of shape the stupid scale says it is, can go the distance that I go. And I do catch moments where I think that there really is nowhere else I'd rather be at that moment than on the road.
I am signed up for my second half marathon. I'm three weeks into my training. It's going better than the last time I did this. I have good runs, I have some really crappy runs. I have two full months left to prepare. Sometimes I think the biggest motivator for me to complete it is that I've already paid my race entry fee.
Maybe I need to make a running shirt that says "I'm too cheap to quit this race."
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