(Run) Love, or Why I Like the Miserable Stuff

The other day at work I mentioned that I wanted to go cross-country skiing.

My colleague humorously replied, “Why not downhill skiing? Why do you always want to do the miserable stuff?”

He’s right. I always want to do the miserable stuff. I take time off and spend money to run marathons and races to ride the red line and put myself through hell. When it’s 80 degrees and your body is almost failing you and you keep going anyway, it sucks and it’s amazing at the same time.

That’s run love to me.

Run love is not wanting to run when it’s cold and rainy or blistering hot, but going out there anyway because this powerful force within you is telling you to get your ass out there.

Am I happy? Miserable? A bit of both.
Am I happy? Miserable? A bit of both.

Run love is forgiving yourself for the days that don’t go well. There are a lot of them. There are more bad days than good days.

Run love is believing in yourself on those bad days. It’s that quiet flicker of hope and faith in your chest that tells you your dreams aren’t ridiculous.

Run love is knowing the journey is more important than immediate happiness, and the reward of a hard-earned PR far outweighs an easy pleasure.

At its best, run love is the most beautiful transcendence I’ve ever experienced. And at its worst? It’s sweating and crying and swearing and falling in a heap on the ground because your body just won’t work the way to you expected it to. Run love is loving something so much you’d do it even if you knew you’d fail. And I’ve failed at running more than I’ve failed at anything else.

But I don’t stop running because I love it. Because maybe run love is inexplicable.

Run love is not explaining why you make yourself miserable again and again, it’s smiling and knowing it’s worth it.




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