Running, I F*cking Love (Hate) you

I mentioned last week that I used to hate running. I still (kind of) do.

For me, I typically learn things relatively quickly if I put my energy into it. I can name majority of the common and uncommon tropical houseplants from memory, give you random facts about various animals (I watched a lot of animal planet as a kid lol) or even play pickleball decently after the first time I tried.

Running is one of those things that does not (and likely will never) come natural to me. I often feel that everything in my body is against me when I run. My shins start to hurt after a little bit, certain toe nails turn a disgusting shade of purple and when I look at my shadow, my movements look awkward. Somewhere in-between a circus bear and a dancing panda.

Sometimes I feel like I am absolutely flying and end up at a mediocre 6:20 min/km pace and go on Strava (social media for fitness) and see my friends casually doing 4:30 min/km (there is a big difference lol). Sometimes I see people who have just started running go 1 to 2 minutes per km faster than me on their ‘easy’ runs. At one point I even unfollowed some of the UBC varsity running team; I would just compare myself to them. The ego really is something.

I have mentioned previously, but Amendri was the one who really started me on running. She mentioned to me that she wants to run a marathon at some point, so I said I would run a half marathon with her to support her. We ran it together, which was great but F—k. She absolutely pulled me a long with her long legs and aerodynamic (lol) body. Me? My legs are literal tree trunks and my bones must be dense or something, cause I’m a heavy boy. It was tough.

Why do I still get up, put on my clothes, smash my feet into my shoes and keep going after the half marathon is over? Just yesterday, I had set out with the intention of an hour run and 35 minutes in I was feeling like wet bread. It was windy, cold, and my body was not feeling up to it. I stopped my tracking and told myself I’m just going to walk the way back. Around 30 seconds later I realized, walking isn’t going to make me get any better and I need to stop complaining. I started a new workout and ran all the way home to finish off the hour. But why do I care so much??

Maybe it’s just so I can tell people “I run” or so I can feel more athletic than I’m meant to be. Maybe it’s because I’m proving to the younger me that it’s something I can do, regardless of if it ‘comes naturally’ to me or not. Maybe it’s because it’s something that takes time to get better at, and it is so rewarding when you finally hit that distance or run that race.

I’ll be honest. At the end of the day, I still don’t really like running. But I do it anyways. It’s f*cking tough. Some days I really don’t want to be out in the cold, making my little legs move one after the other. But I do it anyways. I would love to gobble up kilometres like they don’t hurt but they do and I do it anyways.

I think that often, in today’s world where everything moves so fast (TikTok, trends, money), it’s kinda nice to have something that is hard. Something that challenges you to do something you never thought you would and breaks all your mental blocks. Something that makes you question why you show up but never question why you should anyways.

Running, I still kind of hate you but I guess we can be friends.

See you next week,
Max :)

Thanks for reading another issue of Two Steps Ahead! I’m curious, what’s your ‘thing’ that is tough for you and you kind of hate, but still do anyways because you know it’s good for you? Reply back, I want to know!