A (slightly edited) IM conversation between myself and Meghan of The Megha Mix from April 9th, 2012.
Me: Someday, I’m going to be able to exercise seriously again, too, and then I’m really going to be a pain in the butt.
I’ll whine about running my 15 or 20 miles every week.
And every week, I’ll go do it.
But 20 miles takes 3 or 4 hours!
I’m getting really bored with running for a month, doing a long run of 6 miles, and then having an injury or a mono flare, or whatever.
Six miles is boring.
Friend: And 20 miles isn’t boring?
That seems like 3x as boring
Because it’s way longer
Me: But it’s so much more satisfying for my OCD.
Friend: Try Crossfit. WAY shorter time commitment
Me: But I can’t tell myself I ran twenty miles then.
Sometimes, I need to be able to say I ran twenty miles.
Sometimes, that’s the only thing I’ve accomplished in the whole month.
Me: Well. It feels that way.
Friend: You have never even in the womb had a month where you accomplished less than a dozen things
Me: I know just long running isn’t always the most effective exercise.
But sometimes it’s very therapeutic.
Friend: I always forget that you actually like running
Me: I don’t. I hate running. I like being a runner.
Me: Does that make any sense?
Me: Running is boring, sweaty, and painful.
But I like being able to run.
I like what I accomplish.
I like being a part of that club.
I like sharing it with my mom.
I like everything about running except actually running.
And that’s not totally true.
There are runs where I cannot imagine being more alive or more in touch with the amazing body God created for me.
There are runs where I can tell I am created by the same God who created cheetahs and falcons and deer.
There are runs where the air is thicker, the leaves are heavier and sounds are so crystalline, I just wait for them to shatter, and then I know what CS Lewis meant about grass being sharp enough to cut feet in heaven.
And there are runs where it’s raining, and I’m impossibly cold and I smash through another puddle and laugh that I can breathe and make my legs cover another mile.
And then there are runs where the air is too thick and my ankle hurts and sweat is in my eyes and my shin aches and half a mile is more than I want to handle.
So mostly, I don’t like running, but I like being a runner. Except for those rare and precious runs where I’m pretty sure God has given me a new body for the ten miles I’m covering.