Last weekend, I reminded myself how much I hated running, especially after a 3 mile run on the treadmill (blech!). My knee hurt, the side of my foot was sore and I threw out my shoulder –why was I subjecting myself to this torture when I didn’t even remotely like running? So, I vowed that after this last weekend’s 5k (my third this year), I would be done with running as a form of exercise forever.
As I limped my way across the finish line, covered in mud, zombie guts, cuts, and bruises, I turned to my friend and said, “I could totally run this again right now.” And on the way home, we started researching our next run.
I guess something about getting chased by zombies, crawling through mud, climbing over obstacles, and squeezing through houses of live electrical wire really gets the adrenaline pumping and shorts out the brain to make you believe that you’re having fun. We survived – almost – the Run For Your Lives 5k Zombie Race (we had to keep at least one of our three flags to remain human…I failed just a bit from the finish line). And I got a medal. Now I’m addicted to getting medals and running apparently.