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When you hit your 30s a few things happen – your loved up friends start getting married and having babies, your desperately single friends start hearing their biological clocks tick on a frequency usually reserved for canines and people start running marathons. In my mind, the first two make complete sense because they’re rooted in evolutionary logic, the third, however, is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.
To be honest, a big part of me has always wanted to run a marathon. Actually, I’ve always wanted to want to run a marathon and there is a difference. It’s easy to look at all the fund raising emails that come through from friends running 42 kms for (insert important cause here) and think ‘do I not care enough about (insert important cause here)?’ or, ‘Is there something wrong with me if I’d rather poke myself in the eye than run for five hours, even if it is for (insert important cause here)?’
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My fear of pounding the pavement has always confused me because I LOVE to exercise. I always have. I lose my mind if I don’t got to the gym six to seven days a week but despite feeling that I really should love running, every time I’ve tried it, I’ve hated it.
So at the beginning of this year I set myself a goal: to learn how to not hate running. And here’s how I did it…
1. Get off the treadmill
Not only is it a metaphor for slogging your guts out in life and going absolutely nowhere, running on a treadmill is capital B for BORING. I don’t know what happens to the space-time continuum when you’re on one of these things but I’ll run for what feels like four days, look down and see a demoralising ‘2.5 min’ has elapsed. How are people lining up for this torture during peak hour at the gym?