If You Want to Run But You Hate to Run, Don’t Give Up!

I remember the first run I ever did.

I’d started dating my boyfriend, who is now my husband, just a few months before. He was-and still is-a runner, though he does short distances, 3 or so miles a few times a week.

One day I was at his house. I’d watched him come in from those runs flushed and feeling so much better than when he had left, and since I was approaching thirty I thought that taking up something like running, which burned so many calories, might be a great way to tackle the extra pounds I was sure would fill my bones when I hit the big 3-0 mark.

So he handed me his beeper (yes, this was a while ago!) and said, “Go for as long as you can.”

That ended up being two minutes. I thought I was going to die.

I hated running.

I started running, but I hated it. I tried to do better, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get my breath down, I always got pangs in my side, I felt I looked stupid when I ran, my gait was all wrong-on and on and on went my list of running complaints.

My future husband surprised me by signing us up for Race for the Cure. A 5K-3 miles (which now seems so short!). I knew I would have to keep training to run it, and so I did, even though I flew up to WV in the middle of December. I ran in the snow (probably still one of my favorite all time runs, and it was just thirty minutes!)

Up until the day of the race I swore to myself, and to anyone who would listen, that once that race was over I would give up running for good. “I hate it, ” I said to everyone. “I’m only doing this for that stupid race.”

And then I went to the race. It was held in West Palm Beach on a January morning. I can remember the excitement, all the people huddled around, anxious and excited. I remember the people on the sides of the road as we ran, and the way that they yelled out what a great job we were doing, to keep it up, we could do it.

And I vividly remember crossing that finish line and realizing that I would never ever NOT run again.

I still love races. The excitement, the fever, the rush. I still love seeing people on the sidelines yelling for me, a stranger that they will probably never meet. I can’t wait to see that on February 3rd when I run my first marathon.

If you hate running now, don’t give up! Keep at it, work your way to three miles, and then head off to a 5K. I promise you, the excitement that you find there will carry you through that three miles-and possibly 26.2 sometime in the future!