Dear Running…

We’ve come a long way. After spending years in a sort of “on-again, off-again” flirtation, you eventually wrestled me down and convinced me to make a commitment. When I was a younger man, I only sought your sweet embrace when I was trying to lose a few pounds or get myself in better shape for basketball. But you knew I’d come around. You were patient with me and your patience paid off.

When my wife and I were first dating, she convinced me to truly get to know you. While you may not have provided the excitement level of trendier workouts (there’s no tire flipping), you proved to be steady and true; something I needed as I aged and matured. And once I took the time to look deep into your soul, I knew I’d never live without you again.

Like any relationship, our romance has not always been an easy one and there’s plenty of things we don’t see eye to eye on. I hate getting up early to run, but that’s kind of your thing. I’m not a fan of wearing tights in public, but you insist I spend the winter months in pants that leave very little to the imagination. But it’s this Sam and Diane kind of friction that keeps things interesting.

There have been times when I turned my back on you because I wished to participate in simpler, less physically stressful activities that didn’t require moisture wicking fabric. But while these occasional affairs with sloth were EXTREMELY enjoyable, in my heart I knew I’d return. They were just no substitute for the feeling of accomplishment and physical well-being you bring into my life. (To say nothing of the guilt and regret that comes with acute laziness.)

During those times when I strayed, you never gave up on me. You knew I’d come to my senses and realize what a good thing we have together. And whenever I returned, hat in hand, you were always waiting for me with open arms, unconditional love, and a pint of chocolate milk.

Sure, I still have regular flings with basketball and soccer, but you don’t mind. You get it. You know that variety is the spice of life. You also realize that eventually my body will break down and I’ll no longer be able to participate in those silly sports. And when that fateful day comes, you’ll still be there for me. I’ll be older, slower, and less coordinated, but as long as I can shuffle my feet enough to maintain some base level of forward momentum, I’ll be able to run.

I love you, running. I want you to know I’m committed to you and I’m in this for the long haul. (Well, unless I suffer some kind of catastrophic leg injury, in which case, you’re on your own.)

Sincerely,

Dave… your reluctant runner

PS – I’ve only started half marathon training this week, so stop nagging me about my low mileage. I’m getting there.