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Heather Blackmore

Mile 7

4/26/2013

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I don’t run. Not unless someone’s chasing me.

When running is hidden as part of a sport, such as tennis or basketball, it’s fine. I don’t really notice it. But going for a run just for the sake of running? Ick. When have you ever passed a runner who wasn’t grimacing as if in pain? Ever passed one who was actually smiling? I rest my case.

Yet in a recent lapse of judgment, I put myself on a strict run-18-miles-a-week plan and have stuck to it for over 6 weeks. I have no plans to do a marathon or anything crazy, and will experience my own brand of shock-and-awe if it continues much longer.

But where’s the high, people?

I was complaining to my brother-in-law about this, explaining that I’d recently completed a 6-mile run—my first—and wanted the promised euphoria, which didn’t occur. I mean, come on, why else do this?

With a grin, he said, “Oh. That happens in mile 7.”


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Photos used under Creative Commons from hapinachu, r.nial.bradshaw, Phillie Casablanca, star5112, Faint Sanity, kouk, lululemon athletica, that one doood