Why do you do it to yourself?

I love to run. If you had told me in high school that I would be a runner I would have laughed in your face. I loved sport and was pretty fit and healthy, but I hated running.

When I first started running and entering fun runs I would often hear, "fun runs! there is no such thing". It wasn't just the thrill of crossing the finish line, I just loved to run. Nothing beats the runner's high. How do you describe something so intangible, that hit of endorphins that makes the hard work so worthwhile?

My running goal has always been to complete a marathon, it's never been about running fast. Combined with a tendency toward injury I have concentrated on time on my feet, on pace of my feet. I would find my comfortable pace and all my running would be at that speed. I'd come home feeling tired and wait for that runner's high. But I surprised myself at the Mother's day classic; I completed it almost 5 minutes faster than my 'goal' time. It got me thinking; maybe I could run faster than I thought I could. How fast could I run if I trained to run fast?

So I now have intervals sessions and time trial in my training week. I was dreading my group training interval session yesterday. I'd run a pyramid style session with Dan on Monday, and even after a recovery run Tuesday I was still feeling it in my legs. I'm still coughing. My ankle is still sore. We're running on grass. My mind was telling me it was going to be hard and it was going to hurt. 8 600m intervals trying to keep to under 2.55 (not as fast as some but fast enough for me!) were going to kill me. It was hard. And it did hurt. And the runner's high was short lived, a bit of dizziness and an upset stomach quickly replaced the good feeling.

I was complaining to mum, telling her how hard running fast is, how much my legs hurt and how exhausted I am, when she asked me why I was doing it to myself. It was a really good question. Why am I doing it? It really put into perspective that punishing myself is my choice. I could go back to being the tortoise, running slow and steady but finishing the race.

I'm doing this for me. This is my choice. Am I going to stop dreading speedwork? Unlikely. Am I going to continue complaining about being sore? I don't think so. But I am going to own this decision. This is me.