Running: Don’t Do It for the Running
Why I Hate and Love It
I think… I think I’m a runner. It‘s taken me a while to admit it, but maybe it’s time.
I could dance around it and say that I occasionally run. But after losing 4–5 mornings and evenings a week to runs and recoveries, that’s like a guy with a perforated septum saying he has sniffed a little cocaine.
Or I could say I’m a jogger, if I want to relive the 1970s.
But after running consistently for the last six years, averaging 3–5 runs/week for 20–40+ miles, a couple of 10k’s, several half marathons and one marathon, runs in the day and night, in temps over 100F and under 0F (-9F! Windchill -31F!), it’s getting increasingly hard to deny.
One thing that makes me shy away from calling myself a runner is my deep, dark secret (running friends, cover your eyes): I don’t like running.
The actual act of running is, step by step, a tedious, boring, and sometimes painful ordeal (man, I have got to sort out my foot pain issues soon; logging miles on bruised feet is annoying).
I’m sure some people actually enjoy running. In fact, I’ve talked to some of them (usually on or after a run) as they’ve waxed poetic about loving running outside in nature, or feeling a “runner’s high” (which I’ve never felt and don’t believe in), or just enjoying the feeling of working hard. I don’t get it. They must be masochists. Or lying. Or slightly insane. Probably all three.
However, there are many other things that I do enjoy about running:
- How I feel after a run: Once a run is done, and for much of that day, I’m exhausted in a good way. And I’m also happy that I’m done and don’t have to do that again today.
- Fitness benefits: Cardio exercise is good for weight/heart/health. My father provided a very helpful real-world example of what happens when you don’t exercise. I’d rather avoid that result, so I’ll do something: it might as well be running.
- Social benefits: I’ve met tons of people, had lots of enjoyable conversations, and made many friends through running and running groups. I realized during the pandemic how few people I actually knew in the town where I’ve lived since 1995, because most of my friends were through work, a solid awful commute away. Running regularly with a local group has helped immensely. And when I moved to Chicago temporarily, going out with running groups was a fun and speedy way of casually getting to know a lot of locals.
- Sports for non-competitive people: One of the things I’ve never enjoyed about organized sports is that feeling of sucking at them and other people actually caring and thinking less of me for it. If you’re on a team and you’re not good, then you’re bringing that team down, so it’s natural they’d hold that against you (or you’d hold it against yourself, on their behalf).
I’m sure that there are runners who are very competitive, and running groups full of those people. I’ve heard of those people and those groups, but to this day I’ve never run with any of them. Instead, everyone I run with competes only with themselves. Everyone is happy for you, whatever your pace, targets, PRs, or lack of any of it, because we’re all in it for ourselves. My running faster or slower has no impact on your performance, so why would either of us feel competitive about the other?
Obviously this doesn’t apply to the runners actually winning races (for which you’d probably need the kind of competitive drive and ability that I’m genetically not built for). But the vast majority of us are just running with the pack, and we’re having a good and supportive time doing so. - Sports for the uncoordinated: As I said above, I was never the most coordinated person. I’ll go further: I am uncoordinated. I could never play ball sports well because I was much better at dropping the ball than catching, throwing, or just holding onto it (hello, right field!). And while some people might find joy in doing these things anyway, I’m not one of them: I find it frustrating to be so very bad at anything, over and over. So when I realized I needed to do something physical, I looked to sports that didn’t rely on coordination, or my complete lack of it.
My innate (in)abilities led me early on to gym workouts. Moving objects in one dimension at a time was just about my speed. And cardio on gym machines required little from me other than staying on, which I handled with aplomb.
Similarly, running does not require a lot of coordination from the runner. You should avoid obstacles in your path, and keep a sharp eye out for cars and bikes, if you want to avoid painful consequences. But these physical actions tend to be far easier than, say, catching a pop fly.
One final point about coordination: one of the (many) frustrating things about the (many) sports I sucked at was that I never seemed to get any better. I’m sure if I worked hard enough at it, I’d improve. But man, that’s a lot of suffering to get somewhere probably not that great anyway. Meanwhile, with running, you just… run. It turns out that running more miles leads to being able to run more miles better and easier. It’s as simple as that. I will never be an elite, or win races, or hit amazing times. But I’m far better than I used to be, with faster times and longer distances, and it’s all due to just doing the work. But (and here’s the important part) that work wasn’t horrible like losing at sports over and over: I just put in the miles. - Simplicity: Most other sports require complicated and expensive equipment and facilities. And team or even paired sports requires so much schedule coordination you end up exercising more management skills than muscles. Meanwhile, you can go for a run with nothing more than a decent pair of running shoes.
Okay, you should put on some clothing too, unless you’re with the streakers at Bay To Breakers, and just because the rest of us would appreciate your discretion. But none of the clothing is complicated. If you’re pounding serious mileage, you’ll want clothing that’s up for that task (unless you want to experience chafing first-hand in your post-run shower).
And you can start your run as soon as you step out your front door. You may want to go further afield to have more varied scenery, but if you enjoy simpler-is-better like me and just want to get it done, your workout starts as soon as you leave your home and ends the moment you return: no transportation, membership, or special facilities required.
But one of my favorite hidden benefits of running is related to the above “Simplicity” item: I love being able to run when I travel.
When I’m on a trip, visiting some far-away place (exotic or not), I’ll try to take some time to walk around and see some of what’s there. But if the weather sucks, or I’m not staying near anything interesting, or (most likely) I just don’t get around to it, then I end up spending most of the time in my room, or doing whatever situation brought me there.
But since running is one of my two forms of exercising (in addition to lifting weights, which I continued in a simplified home workout form after the gyms closed during the pandemic), I just pack basic running gear and integrate my workouts with tourism. The amount of clothing required is minimal. The largest item I bring is a pair of running shoes, and most trips I minimize that bulk by simply wearing those shoes for walking around. In addition, I pack a shirt, shorts, running watch (no data, no credit!), and headphones (for podcasts. See above, Re: running bores me), all of which fit easily into whatever bag I bring.
When I want to work out on my trip, usually every day or two, I dress quickly, get outside, and BAM I’m on my run. If the place I’m staying isn’t interesting or ideal for running, I can usually run a mile to get to somewhere better. Because running isn’t just exercise; it’s also transportation.
An hour later, I’m done with my workout, and I probably got to see something new that I wouldn’t have had the time or patience to get out to see otherwise.
