Running Hag

Last sunday I ran my first 10k race and words cannot describe the elation and sense of achievement I felt crossing the line. I get the endorphin thing now, it’s taken me 39 years but I get it. Who knew something legal and free could get you so high?

I am a reformed sloth. I’ve spent the majority of my adult life sitting idle and bitching about people who love exercising because I just didn’t get it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen people jogging in the rain, in the heat, in the mud, up hills and in the middle of nowhere and thought why the f**k would you do that to yourself?

Until recently I was the type that would rather half starve myself to death than do a bit of exercise. Because I’m a bit nutty and obsess over weight loss, I never understood that people actually do exercise for other reasons than to lose weight. Don’t get me wrong, the weight loss part is brilliant but the mental benefits are even better.

For me, running is like a giant sieve, it jiggles all the shit I don’t want out of my head and keeps the good stuff. For people like me who are prone to depression, running is the perfect remedy.

So it’s a win-win. I’m obsessing a bit less about all the nutella and sour cream I eat because I’m actually burning it off and I’m less of a crazy person. Yay for being normal(ish).

Having said that, during the race when my legs were burning and I wanted to stop running at around 8k’s do you know what kept me going? The pasta and cake I was going to eat afterwards. GUILT FREE CARBOHYDRATE LADEN INDULGENCE.

Or in my case, 4 pies.