How can someone say they love running? You cannot tell me that anyone looks forward to mentally preparing themselves for the torture about to come. At first, runners feel great. They are on top of the world, superior to all who see them. This feeling of power is soon replaced by pounding of the heart and shortness of breath, accompanied with aching in the knees, ankles, hands, feet… well, just about everywhere. Did I mention their faces appear as though they have fell asleep on the beach for five days in the scorching sun and they have sweated off half of their body weight? It is a miserable feeling leaving the thought, “Why am I doing this?” to circulate through their mind over and over again.
I have ran in a majority of places, although I cannot say that I have ever ran through a wheat field, though I am sure that course is just the same. I am limited to the track, the road, the woods, and the treadmill. Some routes are better than the others. Some make four miles seem like a full marathon. Some are boring, some are more boring. I find myself running, not because I like it, by any means, but because it produces results.
The track. I absolutely hate running on the track. The same scenery time and time again. There is a large difference between running on the track with competition and running without. Even more than I hate running on the track, I despise running on the track with a girl on my shoulder, breathing down my neck trying to steal my medal. I usually do not find myself bored during competition running. Instead, my mind is filled with insults about the girls around me that I would rather not share. Track running by yourself is also awful in a different way. By knowing where you are with every step makes time pass slower. Boredom starts to dominate as you fixate on the same dead tree that you have seen a million and one times. You know how many branches it still has left and how many have fallen and taken the leaves with them. A track grants you the opportunity to know exactly how long it takes to run a mile, a half a mile, and so on. You are aware of how long you have been running and exactly how much longer you have to reach your goal.
A treadmill displays the same information as the track. The seconds tick by. The calorie count increases almost as slowly as the distance marker. You have a TV to watch, but what about commercials? You have music, but what if you run out of new songs to listen to? You become so immensely bored that you turn to finding the mistakes the painters made while painting the wall. You count how many minutes it takes you to complete a quarter of a mile. You vow that you will not look at the distance, calorie or time counter until the next commercial, which we all know doesn’t work. Besides, only thirty seconds has passed anyway. Count, complain, cry, and repeat.
Unlike running in circles or in place, jogging on the road or in the woods changes your surroundings. With plants, animals, and people to observe, the time seems to fly by. Pittsburgh is a great place to run. The streets do not allow zoning out and becoming bored. If you did, you would probably knock a person flat on their back. Then you would be on your back getting punched in the face. You are in Pittsburgh, you know. It’s in your best interest to stay alert and notice the many things Pittsburgh has to offer.
Running is an activity that is commended, although dreaded. It is avoided, but continued. Running is terrible, although beneficial. Running is not the only hated, boring thing humans do. Many people hate their job, but they need the money. A lot of people dislike the doctor, but they need to stay healthy. Several kids hate school, but they need an education. A constant competition between want (or don’t want) and need.
I hate running…but I’m going to go run now.