I hate running.
Despite this, there are times when I am inspired to go for a run. During those moments of inspiration I lace up my sneakers, all the while thinking, “But you hate running.”
Yet I step outside, excited about hitting the trail.
“Today, I won’t hate running,” I tell myself.
I pick a playlist. Turn up the volume. Start mapmyrun. Then take off for three miles.
Approximately thirty seconds later the voice inside my head is yelling, “This sucks! You hate running! Stop!”
And I want to stop. Rationally, there’s no legitimate reason to keep running.
I’m not in danger. I’m not training for a race. I’m not trying to expend some pent-up energy. I’m not running with a partner or a group to who might be disappointed if I surrender to what is most comfortable.
I’m running because I’m supposed to exercise and don’t want to limit my exercise to weight-lifting and bouldering.
I’m running because I work from home and want to get outside for a bit.
I’m running because it doesn’t cost anything.
And yes, walking accomplishes the same goals. “Going for a walk” though doesn’t have the same weight as “going for a run.”
So I run.
And running becomes an act of integrity and accountability. Because it’s not that I can’t. It’s that I don’t want to. And no one except me (and mapmyrun) knows if I run half a mile instead of the three I mentally committed to when I laced up my sneakers.