Hate is a Strong Word

Hate is an awfully strong word.

I hate running.

I may have mentioned my hate of running in previous blogs (1, 2, 3). I will occasionally (approximately once every six months) go run a mile. I don't like it, but I know it's good for me. But, I honestly hate running. It is simply the most boring thing I can think of to do with my time.

Last time I ran a mile, however, someone told me that I should try running ten miles. I'm sure she's done it loads of times. She said it's torture. That sounds like a challenge to me. I pondered it for a few days, and decided what the heck--I'll try it. So, I found a little route through the countryside that Google Maps indicates is 10.1 miles.

Mind you, I don't think I've ever run more than three miles at once before in my entire life--and that was at least a decade ago. What a great idea.

I hate snow.

I dislike cold in general, but snow is the worst. I guess snow isn't so bad if you don't have to go outside in it. I did go out in the cold, though. Snow is cold. Snow is also wet. I do not approve.

I hate potholes.

Another friend, when I told her about my run, threw out the question of what I would have done if I had twisted my ankle or something when I was in the middle of my run and four or five miles away from home. Funny thing, that kind of happened. Three times. It turns out that a man can't see potholes when he is running in the middle of the night because it is pitch black out.

I hate running. Hate is a strong word--but not nearly strong enough.

So, it may turn out that I am a freak. How many people can randomly decide at 10 pm to go out and run 10.1 miles without training ahead of time and actually do it? I may retire from The Not Celebrity Not Fit Club--clearly my work here is done. Obviously, I am the king of fitness. Now all you have to do is listen to what I say.

I rule.