Confessions of a wanna-be (not really) runner.

I have always admired those people who put on their dry-fit clothing and running shorts and step out of their front doors to "go for a run." Recently, my sister-in-law and her husband were visiting and he stepped out for a little over an hour one day so that he could run a measly ten miles. I must admit, I was jealous. In my mind I am a runner. I can picture myself training for a marathon. I can imagine getting that "runner's high." I can feel that need to finish the race somewhere deep down inside of me.

Running seems like it would be a great way to exercise, especially right now -- when the weather is so nice. I always think that I want to do it; that I want to be a runner... then I try it. I think some people are just not meant to be runners, and I must be one of those people. No matter how much I want to like it -- I simply don't. In fact, I might even say I don't like it at all. I can ride a bike, I can get on an elliptical machine, and heck, I can even row until the cows come home. BUT I CANNOT RUN! I DO NOT WANT TO RUN! I DO NOT LIKE TO RUN! There, I said it. It is all out in the open. I feel much better now.