Finally, endorphins from running!

There was a N.ew Ba!ance commercial several months ago that talked about the love/hate relationship people often have with running. I thought the commercial was brilliant. I've never been too fond of running. I always felt the hate side so much stronger and so much more often, but that commercial stood out to me because it was so perfect for its target audience.

Back in April, I was running several times a week with Jeremy, Topeka and her husband. We ran at least 3 miles most nights. Sometimes we ran 4, sometimes even 5 miles. Once or twice, we ran 6. So when I stumbled upon a 15k that took place in mid-July, it seemed perfectly doable. Surely I'd love running by then! I signed up. I sent the info to Jeremy, Topeka and her husband. They all signed up.

And then life picked up. Vacations, hectic work schedules and who knows what else got in the way. There were weeks where we didn't run as much. When we did get back into it, we stuck with 3- and 4-mile runs. Now, we find ourselves in the week of the 15k, and none of us feel prepared.

Jeremy and I each wanted to get a good run in this weekend, so we decided to run 6 miles on Sunday morning. Very soon into our run, I was hating it. Every single step of it. I hadn't eaten anything because I didn't want to literally eat and run. I carried water with me to avoid dehydration, and I could just feel the water sloshing in my stomach as I ran. I envied people who passed us on morning walks. They were so much smarter than us. They looked happier. Drier.

I began doubting every single physical activity I do. Why do I feel it's all necessary? Why can't I just stick to the gym like normal people? Why do I think I have to take it further by cycling and running so much -- especially when I hate running? What am I trying to prove?

Finally, even though we had finished a large portion of the run, I let my mind win. I stopped running. Jeremy turned around. "C'mon," he sad. "We've only got a mile and a quarter left."

Only?

So I picked it up again, still hating every step. It was hot. Not as hot as it could have been, but still. I kept scrolling through songs on my iPod. None of them were what I wanted to hear. A few blocks later, I stopped running again. Jeremy was several yards in front of me before he turned around to see me giving up. I just waved him on.

I walked along the quiet, empty street. It was nice to feel like I had it to myself. I could finally feel a slight breeze. My iPod was playing a great song for the moment, and I realized I hadn't enjoyed walking that much in a long time.

I let myself walk for a little over a block before I made myself start running again. My keys were in Jeremy's apartment, and I didn't want him to have to wait for me. I walked one more time later on, but only for a few yards. As much as I didn't want to keep running, I just wanted to be done with the whole thing.

When I reached the end of our route, I was so done with the thought of running that I didn't even care to be frustrated or disappointed in myself for stopping so close to the end. In fact, I was pretty sure I was skipping the 15k altogether (Partly because my brother will be in OK this weekend, and if it weren't for the 15k, I'd go home on Friday to spend time with him. Hey, at least it's a good excuse!). Jeremy told me my time was somewhere around 1:03 -- just over a 10-minute mile.

Tonight, I didn't want to run. Jeremy was working late, though, so I didn't want to go to the gym either. I've gotten used to working out with a buddy. I called Topeka's husband, since Topeka was working late too, and we decided to go for a 5-mile run. At the last second, I decided to leave my iPod in the car.

We set out on our run with a nice, slow pace. It started off great. We talked about quite a few things, and sometimes we ran in silence. I was surprised at how quiet it was when we rounded a corner in one neighborhood. It didn't even feel like we were in Dallas. I could hear only the soft sounds of our footsteps on the asphault -- no cars, no planes, just footsteps. It was really nice and peaceful. My legs felt good, my lungs felt good, and I was really surprised at how pleasant the run was.

We soon found ourselves nearing the end of the run. With about a mile left, I asked Topeka's husband if he was ready to pick up the pace. We sped up, and as we rounded our last corner, I sped up even more. I sprinted for those last few yards, and it felt awesome. I have never sprinted like that before. I wasn't gasping for breath; I wasn't praying for the end. I felt like I was going pretty fast. It felt awesome.

We were both feeling great. Neither of us were wearing a watch, but we were able to estimate our time pretty well. I think we completed the run in about 48 minutes. I felt like I could've run farther easily. I'd never felt so good after a run. It was the closest thing to a runner's high I'd ever experienced. I'm really wondering if that's actually what it was. (I guess they DO exist!) "Why can't running always be like this?" I asked Topeka's husband.

So now I'm actually looking forward to Saturday and feeling much more confident about it. I've decided I'm not crazy for the cycling and running I've been doing to keep myself occupied. And I realized I might still have a snowball's chance at not completely hating running.

It's amazing what a difference a day (and food!) makes!