in other sports news...

I have had a complete 180 conversion on the topic of running.

For the first quarter-century or so of my time on this planet, I have abhorred running (seriously, if you ever get 5 minutes, ask me about the time I tried to get out of running the mile in the 5th grade by dropping my tuba on my leg... it didn't work, by the way, but I still have a nice dent in my shin...) and would have told anyone that the only way you would have caught me running is if I was being chased.

However... in my adult world where there's work and kids and marriage and laundry and bills and general stress and anxiety... running is a haven, and I love it.
Watching the sun set over the course of my run yesterday, I remembered that my aunt took up running after she had her 5th child... insisted on it... stuck up for her running time each day at basically any cost... and at the time, I thought that was a little strange, with all the work she must have to do with 5 kids and all that stuff (she's a better woman than I am for tackling a family that size...) but whatever -- it takes all kinds, and maybe it was just a phase for her.
But she ended up running at least 1 marathon, not to mention looking AMAZING after 5 children... (I mean, I haven't given birth to anything and don't look that good)... and to the best of my knowledge, she's still running even though the youngest is like, 6ish now?

I so get it now.

My run is my half-hour. I listen to the music I want. As loud as I want it. I go where I want. I'm alone. Aside from the blaring music, it is utterly peaceful and quiet. So I can think about the stuff my brain gets too cluttered up to deal with otherwise.
And there's something torturously cathartic about pushing your body past the pain... about challenging yourself to another block, keeping up the pace for one more house. There's solace in the fact that I have to concentrate on really, really basic things - like breathing, pulse, the blood and oxygen moving through my muscles. Like quality time for me and my hypothalamus.

So last night's 3-mile run (jog... I'm not a sprinter, and I don't think I ever will be... not built that way. This northern european DNA was built for endurance, not speed...) made me decide that I want to do a half-marathon next fall. That gives me about a year and a half to train... and honestly, that seems crazy, when looking through the lens that I have publicly proclaimed my hate of running... but whatever, right?

I've changed my answer. Running is good. And cheaper than the spa.