I love running because of the conversations it elicits between me and my husband. Our friendship deepened into romance because of those running conversations and they’ve continued to be a way of bonding throughout our marriage. Nothing says love like discussing the potential lethalness of rabid squirrels or the inconvinience of restroom breaks in the woods.
I love how even on days my legs hurt and my breathing is ragged and everything is tired, running still gives me a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.
I love how running always offers a challenge, but never judges me as a failure. Any day I run I’ve done something worthwhile; no matter how slow the pace or short the distance.
I love how running allows me to explore the outdoors, it’s my grownup playtime. Maybe thats why I hate the treadmill so much?
I love the energy running gives me, and the legs. I have pretty nice legs when I run consistently, and my husband’s legs aren’t that bad either 😉
And finally, running for me is an act of worship. I don’t have to be actively praying or thinking spiritual thoughts, but I often have moments of sheer joy or wonder at what this body I’ve been given can do and the world in which I can do it. Running is a form of communion and a blessing in my life.
Ah, little Potato, I hope you find an activity/hobby/pastime that brings you as much pleasure. In the meantime, you will be accompanying both your parents to a number of races after you’re born, you’ll be too small to resist.