Why I love to... Run
Once I get into the groove, I feel the lightness of my feet, the air in my lungs and my squidge melt away
ZOË with her sister in law, Caroline
My relationship with running is best described as “complicated”. I love and hate it in equal measure. It started during my third year of college when I wanted to exercise for free. The relationship escalated quickly and within a couple of months, I went from running for three minutes on a treadmill, to completing the Women’s Mini Marathon.
Since then, I’ve peaked at 14 km (I had notions of training for a half marathon) and I’ve taken hateful breaks from my running relationship in between.
I hate running because, after a hiatus, the first run makes me want to cry. Getting up early before my daughter Zelda wakes, pulling on my running leggings that are tighter than I remember, and the squidge under my sports bra are harsh reminders that we should have never broken up.
I am not and never will be “a runner”, I merely dabble in the sport. I envy the lean machines of true runners, and their dedication. I’ll admit it, I run so I can eat. I run so I can have the chats with my sister-in-law, Caroline. I run because it makes me feel good … afterwards.
Occasionally, I sign up for a race and even though I curse my decision throughout the entire 10km, the euphoria of finishing shuts out the negativity. I love running because once I get into the groove, I feel the lightness of my feet, the air in my lungs and my squidge melt away. This is a fact that my vanity won’t let me forget.
Right now, running and I are in a good place. We’re starting over (again) and I’m optimistic for our future together.
If you’re considering going on a run for whatever reason, do it. Go get your runners on, get out there for fresh air and some mental headspace. It’s unlikely you’ll regret it.