Why Are We Running?

Walk the trash out to the curb on any given summer evening and you can hear them approaching slowly, soft "thump, thump" of air-filled ultra-shock-absorbing gel-soled shoes carrying 12 hours of pent up stress and anxiety up the sidewalk and out into the neighborhood.
Im talking about the rest of us (yeah, Ive been infected) who never ran in our youth (at least without being chased) and who have suddenly thrown all our energy into this one, singular fitness pursuit.

Why are we running?

I took up running later in life, somewhere between my 20s, when I could devote a day to the gym sweating out a hangover, and my 50s, which are just beginning to peek out (not unlike my stomach) over the horizon. The older you get, the more you realize there simply arent enough hours in the day (week, month) to devote to the treadmill and flat benchunless your kids are old enough to spot you, and mine arent.

So you strap on those spiffy new running shoes you got for Fathers Day (I wanted a Weber Smoker), pull on that goody bag t-shirt from last Octobers sales conference in Knoxville (MAKE IT HAPPEN! 2011), point yourself toward some imaginary destination (like, say, Gyros King on Ogden) and start running.

On any given night (unless "Deadliest Catch" is on, or I work late, or the kids want to play in the yard, or Im grilling out, or it's raining, or it's not..), you can find me running (more like a plodding shuffle) slowly around a stretch of my neighborhood Ive dubbed The Tony Loop. Its a torturous 3.6 mile tour of uneven sidewalks, hyperactive poodles with long leashes, and overgrown rose bushes ripping at my calves.

I hate it. Nothing can make me look forward to this ritual.
Ive gone so far as to load an iPod with four hours of blast beat stacked thrash metal for a deafening motivational soundtrack for my runs. Nothing like Cannibal Corpse to keep your motivation from lagging, or at least give you the illusion that Beelzebub himself is running behind you.
Still, its difficult for me to focus. My friends who run talk about this mythical place called "the zone," some kind of runners Shangri-la where each stride is effortless and you cant hear your knees crunching like Chex Mix between each song.

Personally I dont think this zone place exists, at least not without a healthy dose of pre-run pharmaceuticals (Aleve is my personal favorite) and a Starbucks double-shot chaser. Thats a place I call "the haze," and its pretty much what it takes for me to get through my runs. Zone, shmone.
Ive been running weekly for about a year. Im chafing. Men shouldnt chafe. No one should ever chafe.

So why are we running?
I asked a friend who is a recent convert to the Church of Chafing. She took up running a few years ago and recently completed the Chicago Half Marathon.

Why are you running?
Im a mother of two, but running is something I can do just for me, a completely selfish act that helps me stay in shape, helps to clear my mind. I can do it alone, gets me out of the house for a few hours, then afterwards I can justify having that scoop of Ben and Jerrys while Im watching Letterman.

Makes sense for the busy mom, but what about the middle-aged dad/husband/semi-professional who still thinks hes 24? Why am I running, especially since I completely, utterly, really freakin hate running?
Because I fear death (bonus points for you if you recognize that reference).

See, Ive come to the inescapable conclusion, after years of rationalization and denial, that I am indeed getting older. No really, this was a shock to me; happens that fast. One morning you wake up thinking about that girl tending bar at Alumni Club and where did I write that phone number down, and the next morning you find an ear hairand its gray.

So you start running.
For all of you newbie runners who have never owned a pair of gym shoes that cost more than 30 bucks I offer these tips on beginning your training routine. Remember, regardless of what anyone tells you, you will never really like running. The goal here is to make you forget what youre doing for as long as it takes you to complete three miles. I figure thats worth at least a six-pack of Sam Adams Boston Lager.

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Source: http://www.articlesnatch.com/Article/Why-Are-We-Running-/2645700

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