I have heard it said that love makes people do crazy things.
I am living proof of that.
I haven’t jumped off a building or dived into shark-infested water. No. Nothing like that.
I’ve started going running.
And once I even ran a whole mile all the way through. Without stopping.
Anyone who has known me since high school can tell you that this is a sign that I must have gone crazy.
In high school, we were required to run a timed mile each year. Or, I guess I should say that we were required to get ourselves the distance of a mile in whatever way we could by the power of our legs, be that running, walking, skipping, or hopping on one foot. I would start out running, which probably lasted for the first 1/8 of the mile. And then I walked. Maybe I ran a little bit more here and there, and I always ran to the finish line. But there was definitely a lot of walking in that mile.
I have never run for fun. Because it wasn’t fun.
But then I started dating George. Shortly after we started doing things together, George ran the 5K in the Baltimore Running Festival. A week or so after that, he ran in another race sponsored by a Catholic church in Baltimore. I quickly realized that I was dating someone who found running fun.
I found this fascinating. How could anyone enjoy running? I decided I must be missing something.
So sometime last spring, when he was starting to prepare for another upcoming race, I asked if I could go running with him.
And then I asked again not long after that. And again.
I still have a long way to go to be able to run in a 5K with George, but I’ve made a lot of progress.
My goal is to run in a race with George sometime in 2013. And to be able to keep up with him. (I hear there are some mile-long races out there, which sounds quite doable. I can’t believe I just said that.)
I still don’t know that I would call running itself “fun,” but running with George is pretty enjoyable.
He would never force me to go running or to run more than I feel able to. But he pushes and encourages me just enough. And I push myself the rest of the way.
When my father heard that we were going running one evening, he looked shocked. “Wow,” he said. “I guess this really must be love.”
I think he just might be right.