Runnnnn!!!!!

I know lots of runners.  One of my best friends is an avid runner – motivated largely by an app called Zombie, Run! though she was a runner prior to starting in on it.  Her sister is also a runner.  My boss is a dedicated, out-every-morning runner.  One of my childhood friends regularly posts pictures of Facebook of herself at marathons, numbered and kitted out in running gear.  My dad has always been a runner – he met my mother while he was out on a run and she was out for a walk.  I even following Sneakers on Pavement by dedicated long-distance runner/blogger robyn.

But do I run myself?  No.

I’ve tried.  I did track in 9th grade and did nothing but fail, generally the most epic way, and usually in public.  After college I tried to take it up again as a way to get me out of the house and exercising.  I manage less than a mile for two whole days before the following conversation with a co-worker:

Me:  Are you a runner? (I was pretty certain he was.)

Co-worker:Yeah

Me: How?

He laughed at me, but it more or less condensed my feelings on running in a nutshell.  I don’t run.  I don’t like running.  I would like to like running.  I like being active – I bike, hike, dance, swim and am always ready to try new activities.  I’ve gone climbing.  I’ve fenced.  I’ve done weightlifting and ballroom dancing.  But put me in a pair of running shoes and point me down an empty road and after about a hundred yards I’ll be going, “Screw this.”  And it’s even worse on a track.  Running isn’t fun, but running in circles is downright boring.

My current excuse this that I have one leg that’s a half-inch shorter than the other, which, honest-to-goodness, does put a jerk in my stride that gets downright painful after a while, but I imagine that if I really wanted to run, I wouldn’t let that stop me.  And I can run.  I run on ellipitcals.  I run in place while playing games on the Wii.  I can even run in heels – much to the surprise of some of the two-year-olds I’ve babysat.  (Nothing with legs that short should move that fast, but they certainly seem to manage, don’t they?)  I just don’t understand the appeal, except as a form of exercise.  And when I’m chasing something.

You would think that being surrounded by runners, this would make me the target of a certain amount of grief, but so far the worst that happened was my dad was mildly disappointed I didn’t stick with track.  Beside, I’m not alone on the running-is-good-for-you-but-I-hate-it side of the fence.  My brother put it rather brilliantly while we were eating breakfast at a restaurant one morning, watching a group of people involved in some sort of costume charity thing run up and down the street outside.  He said, “I don’t see a bear, Autumn.  Why are they running if there’s no bear?”

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