A Running Love-Hate Relationship

Running is hard.

When I first started losing weight in 2010, I was avidly against running.  It might have been due to the fact that every time I ran previously I would huff and puff and want to fall over after running about 20 yards.  Carrying an extra 60-ish pounds was no easy feat, and it does not help when trying to move rapidly.  Well, it doesn't help when trying to move at all. 

As I dropped pounds, I found myself intrigued by the treadmill.  In my lazy-girl brain, it looked like an ancient torture device, but in my new less-lazy-girl brain, it looked like a modern torture device.  But beauty is pain, right?

My roommate at the time would always hit the treadmill when we would go to the gym together, so I gave it a try.  Eventually I found myself starting to appreciate the benefits of running.  I always felt like I had worked just a little bit harder than if I used the elliptical or the stationary bike, and I started to challenge myself.  I had never run a full mile before, so that became a goal.

Eventually I did it.  And I hated every minute of it.

Running is hard.

But hitting that mile felt so satisfying.  I had finally overcome it.  I defeated what I hated, and I loved it.  Was I starting to love running? 

Nope. 

But from then on, when I went to the gym, I hopped on the treadmill.

Then I started participating in running events, because apparently dev.in.sight went dev.in.sane.

Here's my current running event log: