Get ready for the tabloid post guys, because I’m about to talk about my abusive relationship with running.

Running makes my lungs feel like they’re on fire and my legs feel like jello.  Running has me questioning my sanity.  Running can make me feel lazy and worthless.  But I can’t give it up.

Sometimes I stray.  I can’t resist the call of the warm, safe couch.  I get complacent and forget about running for a while.

But running is so exciting, it always pulls me back in.  I think “this time, things will be different.”  They never are.  Running always punishes me for my lack of loyalty.  It’s my fault; think if I was faithful, running would stop hurting me.

Even during the bad times, I still love running.  There are good times.  Running can be my rock during stressful periods.  Running doesn’t ask for much, just my sneakers and a bit of time. 

When I stick with it, running makes me feel like I can do anything.  Running helps me feel the breeze against my face.  Running helps me clear my head and think.  Running makes me feel strong. 

I ran 1 mile in 9:15 this morning.  It sucked.  And I can’t wait to do it again.