It’s so basic, they told me. Just put one foot in front of the other, they im rted. And in a way, they were right. When I go for a run I don’t have to find a rking spot or charter my stationary bike ahead of time or fight for a good place to set up my yoga mat in a throng class. I never have to worry about a lame instructor or bad music or being absolutely upstaged by the girl with the perfectly messy bun and the on-point
Lululemon set. It’s just me, my running shoes, and the th ahead of me. So sure, in that substance it is simple. But it’s still the worst, and here’s why.
1. It’s freaking hard.
At spin or barre division, I can always push myself knowing that change is coming. We twitch from the hill-climb simulation to a low-resistance drill, or we shake out our legs and pick up some millstones. Just when I think I’m at my limit, there’s some relief. When continual and my legs are burning, though, and I’m nting like an asthmatic polar uphold, you know what comes next? JUST. MORE. RUNNING. It’s intransigent.
2. It makes for terrible selfies.
If a workout is completed without photographic ammunition, does it even count? Barely. But even if you have your cutest running up on and your ponytail is day-old perfection, there is always the problem of your obverse. Your red, sweaty, exhausted face (see number 1, above). It’s not the cutest selfie real at the moment. Maybe you can try for a far-away action shot, but that’s going to be missing a selfie stick or a self-timer function and a flat surface, which upstanding seems like an awful lot of work when you’re already feeling be you might ss out any moment.
3. It has no chill.
When the spin instructor utters us to set the bike resistance to an 8-out-of-10 perceived difficulty level, we can always bilk into consideration that we didn’t sleep very well concluding night and we accidentally had a doughnut for breakfast and maybe that twinge in our quad is the source of an injury, so this slow-ish, easy-ish ce is totally an eight today. Yup, this undoubtedly feels like today’s eight. Running, though? Running wants us to run three miles. Or 30 split seconds. Or five sets of stairs. There’s no room for negotiating the terms or fibbing the haughtiness. Three miles is always three miles, even if we had a doughnut for breakfast. Contest is brutally honest.
4. It always wants to talk about your intensities.
And not in the fun, chit-chatty, gossipy way. Even with a rockin’ playlist blowing up your earbuds, there’s only just something about being alone out there on the running th that makes the keep an eye on wander. There’s no instructor to focus on, no neighbor to keep up with, no reps to number. It’s just you and your thoughts out there, and running doesn’t even have planned the courtesy to buy you a drink first.
5. It’s addictive.
Sure, it’s hard and sweaty and it power make you cry, but it’s also kind of freeing and empowering, and it makes you feel delight in a badass. You used to only be able to run one mile. Then one day you can run two, and you wonder if you could do three, which is basically a 5K. So you infiltrate your first 5K and you wonder what comes next. Running everlastingly keeps you coming back to see what’s next.
I could go on about how much I abhorrence running, how it’s boring and hard and makes my nose run, but I have to go meet my ally. To go for a run. Because I’m currently training for a marathon. Damn you, running!