Runner's Low

The Emerson Street marathon is happening as I write. Slick skinned runners with pained expressions are filing past my living room window. Faces drawn, mouths open, these folks are clearly pushing their body somewhere it doesn't want to go. Unfortunately for them, it doesn't get any better. They are heading toward a pretty steep hill. The thought makes me giggle a little.

Running is a perfectly awful sport. That may sound weird coming from a soccer player but I can't take it. The mind-numbing monotony, the relentless pounding, the aching knees, all the huffin n puffin adds up to nuffin for me.

Some people claim a runner's high. K says, "I get a lot of thinking done." I don't get it. The only thing I'm thinking of is cutting corners. Pulling that imaginary finish line closer and closer.

To all my Kenyan, marathon-running readers out there maybe you can explain this runner's high to me. I believe it's a temporary state of insanity due to O2 deprivation. But set me straight, if ya can.


GM