I'll never forget the evening I ran my first 5 miles. I had just ended a massive fight with my parents and decided to leave the house to cool down and release my anger through running. It was 90 degrees outside and as humid as a typical sunny July day in Michigan (that's 100% humidity in case you didn't know).

I put my shoes on, threw on a headband, and took off on the country roads. I was upset, worked up, and ready to roll. It only took a mile for me to be dripping in sweat and panting heavily, but I wasn't about to stop. The emotions I was feeling fueled my fire and before I knew it, I was rounding a corner to begin my last mile home. My legs hurt, my stomach cringed with cramps, and I honestly didn't think I would make it home. The sun beat down on the left side of my face as I talked to myself, saying "UGH, I hate this." To the normal runner, 5 miles may seem like nothing, but for an uncoordinated, inexperienced (and incredibly un-athletic) person like me, it was overkill.

But I finished, and it felt so good. I didn't feel angry anymore, and although my body continued to ache even after I stopped, I felt refreshed and more confident in myself. The pain was worth the results. Fast forward three years, and today I still hate running with everything in me. It takes all my motivation to put on my shoes and hit the streets for even a 1-mile jog. Morning or evening - I groan at the thought of it. For me, it doesn't grow easier with experience; each run hurts just as much as the last.

When people hear that I use running as my primary form of exercise, their typical response is "Ew, I hate running." Me too, ME TOO. I hate the sound of my feet hitting the concrete in an even rhythm. I hate the concentration I have to execute to maintain proper breathing. I despise sweating and the feeling of intense thirst. Running is the worst, so why do I even do it?

I run because I hate running. I run because I know it's good for me and will benefit my body for years to come. I run because after an overwhelming day at work, there are few better ways to alleviate the stress I have built up. I run because shin splints hurt like hell but strengthen my pain tolerance and stamina. I run because I love ice cream and those extra calories have to go somewhere other than my stomach. I run because beating a PR is truly one of the best feelings in the world.

This past week I took off for another 5-mile stretch. It was no easier than the first one that occurred 3 long years ago. It pissed me off because I just wanted to be home in bed watching another re-run of The Office, and each step I took increased my irritation. That frustration kept me going. The voice in my lungs and legs continued to scream at me that I couldn't do it, so I pushed harder, and finished once again. I finished because I didn't think I could. Ironic, huh?

Running sucks, and that's all there is to it. I don't believe people who say that they love it, because there's nothing wonderful about overheating while stressing out every muscle in your legs. And yet, for some strange reason, that is exactly why I do it.