I am now ten weeks into this sweaty little adventure, and I have one question, Modern Philosophers:
When am I going to start liking running?
While I have enjoyed providing inspiration through perspiration, I was hoping that after 70 days of (not so much) blood, (way more than seems possible) sweat, and (a surprising amount of) tears (not really, but it just sounded right), I would have fallen head over heals in love with running.
And yet, here we are, still behaving like a couple of exes who can barely stand the sight of one another.
Is it me? I know I really stink after a run and that can be a total turnoff, but I’m also quite charming and outgoing.
So I think running deserves some of the blame.
If my relationship with running were a Romantic Comedy, we’d meet cute after my annual physical. The doc would have told me I was out of shape and needed to lose weight, and since he would also be my best friend and comedic sidekick, he’d remind me that fat, out of shape guys never meet pretty girls.
I’d grumble about how it didn’t make any sense to get into shape because I was never going to meet anyone again, and I’d storm out of the office pissed off at the world.
That’s when I’d crash into running, who would be walking past the front door of the office at the exact moment I was exiting. I’d probably cause her to spill her coffee and knock her down. I’d make some joke about how she was lucky she wasn’t killed by the force of the collision given that I was so fat.
She would find my self depreciating humor to be charming, and she’d see something in me that no other woman has in a very long time.
Of course, she wouldn’t say anything about it. After all, I’m just some fat stranger who, for all intents and purposes, had just assaulted her.
We’d go our separate ways, thinking we’d never see each other again, but we all know that’s not how it works in a rom com.
The irony would be that I’m only able to catch up with her to reveal my feelings because I’ve been running for ten weeks. If I hadn’t gotten myself into shape by doing something I hated, I never would’ve had the stamina or the ability to catch up with running and tell her how much I love her.
Isn’t that a beautiful story, Modern Philosophers?
So where’s my happy ending? When do running and I live happily ever after?
I can sit on my porch and bask in the glow of my achievement, while the runner’s high washes over me.
Then I get to go into the kitchen of The House on the Hill and chug chocolate milk straight from the carton. Now that’s the good life!
That’s what makes running worth it.
I am definitely happier, healthier, more confident, and pretty darn handsome.
I just wish I would fall in love with running so we could live happily ever after…