For the first two miles of a run, I am propelled by love. I love the outside air. I love the scenery going by. I love the friendly people I pass. I love the way my legs effortlessly pump back and forth.

For the second two miles of a run, I am propelled by hate. I hate the bugs. I hate my own sweat getting in my eyes. I hate the drivers that won't slow down. I hate the nasty uneven sidewalks. I hate that my mind is stuck inside a meat-sack that won't work if I don't frequently waste my time running to nowhere in particular. I hate that my legs and lungs hurt, even though I'm doing this to improve my body.

For the third three miles of a run, I am propelled by despair. I know that if I stop it'll take a long time to walk home. I know that I could have stayed home and eaten Ben & Jerry's. I know that with each stride another little bit of cartilage in my knees has been eroded away. I know that each stride is taking me a few feet closer to the grave.

I don't tend to run more than six miles, so I have no idea what's next. I should give it a try sometime!

Posted by: Boviate at 09:35 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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