The day I accidently ran 13.1 miles

Hate may be too strong of a word, but I really am not a fan of running. I know it is all the rage and cool people everywhere have a sticker on their car about the miles they have run. I applaud those who run, but I also think there is something wrong with people who are cool to just take off running. It is said that soccer is the most boring sport among American spectators - I would argue it is running. 

One day in Colorado my father-in-law and brother-in-law (who love to run) invited me to go on a run with them. While I hate running, I love the family I married into and I always look for ways to continue to dupe them into thinking that I am not as lazy as I really am. So I go running with them. 

After about a mile or so, it is clear these two are holding back for my benefit. And because I also do not want to put a damper on their run, I tell them to go ahead. The air is thin, I am out of shape, they are runners, and there was no way I was going to allow them to watch me kill over and wheeze. So they begin to pull away and before long they are out of sight on the trail. 

I decide that when they get to the end of the trail and turn around they will run past me and that will be my cue to turn around and run with them. This is a brilliant plan because it gives the impression that I am not lazy and I also do not damper their run. I smile as a delight in my genius plan as I continue to run. 

They never come back up the trail and after awhile I begin to think that I should just turn around. My pride of not being seen lazy would not let me. So I kept running.

I ran to the next town. 

At this point I realize that I have to have energy to run back and I still have to have energy to make it through the rest of the day. Feeling defeated that I could not even run half of what my family-in-law could run I begin the run back. 

The next time I saw my family-in-law was back at the condo. My father-in-law eating yogurt and my brother-in-law just finishing off a short stack. 

Soaked in sweat and needing to go to the bathroom, I asked how long they have been here.

About 30 minutes. 

I come to discover that the trial that I was on had a fork in it: go left and you circle back to the condo but go right and you go to the next town. They went left and I went right.

To recap, I hate running, I ran just over a half marathon, my family-in-law was eating breakfast. 

I am sure there is some sort of moral here or some sort of lesson that I should have learned in all this. Perhaps there is a deep spiritual truth that is expressed in running beyond what you are able to do or knowing when to submit to forces larger than yourself. Perhaps this should inspire me to run more often and work up to a full marathon since I ran a half marathon without knowing it.

Perhaps, but I really hate running.