This week has been tough for running. My bed has been way to comfortable and the desire to get up and get moving seems to be completely gone.
Last week, while I was still all gung-ho about my new routine, I found a few online forums and such in which someone posed the question, “Why do you run?” It’s a question that I’ve been thinking about since.
Very few of the answers people provided rang true for myself. Not that I couldn’t agree with most of them. A lot of them cited running for health reasons. Most mentioned how wonderful they feel after a run. A lot of them claimed to love the actual act itself, the movement and freedom they find in it.
That’s all well and good, and I’d say I run for quite a few of those reasons as well. But I think the main driver behind me getting out of bed in the morning and putting on my running shoes is far less positive and, as a result, probably far less healthy.
I think I run out of guilt.
I run because, if I don’t, when M or one of my co-workers happens to ask how my morning run was, I’d have to tell them I didn’t go. If I don’t, my $200 running shoes will stay clean and white. If I don’t, I’ll have gained forty-five minutes of sleep and lost a day or week of self-respect as I see my discipline failing once again.
How’s that for dangerous motivations behind exercise?