“All people at the age of 25 inevitably pick up running.” That’s what a teacher told me once referring to his experience when he hit his quarter-life crisis. Apparently I’ve hit mine early as I have taken it back up again, and honestly, I have no idea why.
I hate running – it’s really the worst. Your muscles cramp up, you sweat profusely, staining your clothes a dirt yellow. One fine chap told me that running ruins your knees; I think he was a doctor, but don’t quote me on that. See, all I want to do is go home and eat Pringles and watch "It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia" and be happy, but instead I’m running three miles to try to work off the pounds I’ve put on since high school. I used to be pretty; now I’m old and out of shape, which is probably why running is so hard for me these days.
Then it’s mentally draining. You know that voice inside your head that you’re not supposed to listen to? Yeah, well, he’s bent on convincing me to stop. "We could run three miles today, or we could sit at home eating chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice cream watching 'Pretty Woman.'" That’s a great movie and you know it. Actually, I’ve never seen it, I just believe things people tell me, like for instance that running is a good idea.
No, me and running have had a love-hate relationship. Back in high school, I was a long-distance track star. I started this tradition where I’d puke at the finish line after running my fastest time. I gave a legitimacy to the phrase "running your guts out." No one else on the track team seemed enthusiastic about my new tradition, especially the guy with the gun – he shouldn't have been standing so close. My track coach took a picture of the vomit and put it on Facebook. It really confused my family who wasn’t in on the joke. “Why is your track coach comparing you to vomit?” my grandma asked.
The more entertaining moments of running track took place during the practices where my friends and I ran around the neighborhood near our school. We had this running gag (see what I did there) going where each time we ran past a person with a dog we’d compliment them on having a “nice dog.” Everyone else got to compliment the people with the cool dogs, the German Shepherds, Golden Retrievers, and Huskies. I, on the other hand, always got the people with the little annoying dogs. All those people had the same look on their face: as if to say, “We made a huge mistake, this dog won’t shut up.” I knew exactly how they felt.
I hate running, and yet I continue to do it. What’s the definition of insanity? Doing something over and over again expecting a different result? I have come to the conclusion that all runners are insane, especially marathon runners -- those people need to be locked up. I once saw a meme of a 99-year-old marathon runner and a caption that read “no excuse.”
You want to know why he had no excuse? Because there was literally nothing going on inside his head. You know what the most famous movie about a runner is? "Forest Gump." That should tell you all you need to know. Also you know all that hype about runner's high? Well, it's bullsh*t. Also there's nothing like the real thing. Just kidding, mom and dad, and stay in school, kids.
I will tell you, however, the best part about running is finishing. And I don’t mean that in a sarcastic way. I mean that so far in life nothing compares to that feeling of accomplishment for actually finishing, nothing except for maybe … never mind. It is the will conquering the body. You're running against every instinct telling you to stop, and when you cross that finish line, you know the race you really won was against yourself. Ask any runner -- we all know that our race is never over. Forest Gump didn’t stop in the end zone; he just kept “runnin' and runnin'.”
Runners don't stop, and we don't quit. We fall, we get injured, then we get back up and run the next race. We persevere because we overcame our greatest obstacle, milk steak. I really like food, especially if you happen to be in the camp that considers milk steak food. So finish strong, runners. Oh and about that 99-year-old runner, I’m sure if he ever reads this, he'd have more than a few words for me, and I’d have nothing but respect for him.
