Running - love to hate it

I have a love/hate relationship with running.  Except I can't actually recall a time I've ever loved it...

I've just done it.

Starting back in high school I tried to stay in shape by running, albeit very slowly.  I was more concerned with just doing it than doing it quickly.  I was pretty dedicated my freshman year of college (still slow) and had friends who would run with me.  It just became a habit.  I ran 5K races around BYU periodically.  A few years later I made a New Years resolution to run 10 miles every week, and due to my obsession with completing all goals that I set, I ran my 560th mile on NYE.

Do I have any running memories during my mission?  A few.  I ran around a big field.  Once.  I remember one companion who always agreed with me that stretching in our warm bedroom would be more fun than running outside in the cold.  I liked her!  Then I had a companion who made me run every morning, even making me get up 10 minutes early!  We were lucky that we lived next to the temple and could run a few laps around the temple grounds every morning.  It made it more bearable.

Once back in Provo, I heard about a new half marathon being held on Halloween.  I love Halloween and just seeing runners in costumes sounded like fun, so I signed up.  The training was miserable.  School and work kept me busy so I was mostly just running on the weekends.  I went on one long run with my sister and we passed a Burger King billboard so we talked for over 6 miles--up and down hills-- about what we wanted to order.  The first thing we did when we got home was drive over to get Whoppers and fries.

The race came and went.  My only goal was to finish without walking, and I succeeded.  I think I also wanted to finish under 3 hours (I know, dream big) and succeeded on that account too.  As evidence that I wasn't running for time, I honestly don't remember what I ran it in.  Maybe 2 hrs and 30 or 45 minutes?  All I know is I finished.  In a bumblebee costume.

And then I started dating a guy I'd met the week before...  named Hyrum.  And the running stopped.  No time for running when you're dating and engaged and planning a wedding and traveling and starting a new job!

My running has been sporadic ever since.  I don't think I've ran in a single race.  And it probably would have continued like that indefinitely (because I don't love running.)

Except...

A few months ago a lady in my ward said she was planning a girls trip to Scotland to run a half-marathon for all who were interested.  There was the option to split the race with one other person, making it 6.5 miles each.  That sounded perfect!  I knew I could get to 3 miles easily, and 6 would be a good push.  And who wouldn't want to go to Scotland and make their husband watch the baby all weekend?!

I started training.  And even running 2 miles was miserable.  The first time I did 3 I thought I was going to die.

In May the group of women who were going on the trip got together to plan some details, and I found that all of them were planning on running the full 13 miles.  At that moment I wished I wasn't so competitive and prideful.  But my first thought was, "I don't want to be the only weak sauce person running less!"  I asked them to convince me to run farther (because I hate running).  I guess it worked, because I signed up.  And now I have to run 13 miles in September.

The good news for my training (and the bad news for my post-race muscles and joints) is that the route is primarily downhill.  This little graphic gives me a little hope that I won't die:
 

 
Plus it's along the coast.  And in SCOTLAND! I always said that I checked "half marathon" off my bucket list with the Halloween race in 2009, so now I guess I'm crossing off the "international half marathon."  And really, after this, I'm done with 13 mile runs--even if there's one on the  moon.  My poor knees and ankles just don't take it well.

Despite all the hating on running (sweat, sore muscles, huge time commitment, shortness of breath, etc) there are obviously a few aspects that I do like.

1. In the back of my mind I know I'm being healthy, and that's always good.  I can't say it makes me feel better, because running long distances actually just makes me hurt.  But less than 5 miles, and sure, I probably feel good.  
2. If I'm going to spend the time exercising, I like something that I can really feel.  The pain of running makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something.  Sick, I know. 
3. I think I make better eating choices when I exercise regularly.
4. While I run I tell myself that I'm grateful for a mothering break.  ME time.  :)  
5. Running has never affected my weight much, but it's probably helping me maintain my weight loss. 
6. The bigger effect is that I like my body more.  By seeing what I'm capable of doing, then challenging that farther than I could imagine, I view my physical body in a much more positive light.  Whether I'm running or not, I usually don't dislike my body. But that's different than looking in the mirror and actually liking what I see despite all my flaws.  They're still there.  I just appreciate the whole package.  The body is an incredible thing.
7. And maybe cute workout clothes should be on the list?  And an excuse to buy new shoes?

So if those 7 things can constitute love, than this whole novel properly documents my love/hate relationship with running.  

Although I know that on Monday when I attempt a 9-mile run for the first time in almost 5 years, there will be mostly just hate.  A lot of it.