I’d Rather Have A Beer

I have never understood the phrase “runner’s high”. I have heard it from friends and family, all running enthusiasts of differing levels, but I suspect that there is a certain level of bullshit associated along with it.  According to them, a sense of pure euphoria and zen like mental experience occurs at a certain time during the act of running that rivals the effects of drugs and alcohol, both legal and illegal. Frankly, I just believe these individuals  have no clue as to what they are talking about because, having had the pleasure of experiencing a small sample of certain substances, very few things are comparable to the effects of drugs and alcohol and running is not on that list. I can only imagine that these unfortunate individuals have been drinking the worst possible beers and limiting their drug intake to Tylenol, but that is neither here nor there.

I personally have never felt anything remotely resembling a runner’s high. Granted I am not the most avid runner, but even in my younger days when I was far more dutiful in the activity I never derived pleasure from the run. To me running is, and always has been, a necessary evil. It is really one of the best and easiest exercises that a person can participate in. Virtually anyone can do it regardless of race, gender, body mass, or income. It is also a great way to regulate metabolism and have an overall healthy exercise. Even so, I hate running. The only time that I have felt that mythical euphoria during cardiovascular exercise has been from punching the crap out of a heavy bag or sparring with someone, though to be honest I would usually be on the receiving end during those sessions. Hmm…might have a few anger issues I should look into.

Still, even with my seemingly infinite disdain for the activity, this year I have tried my best to begin to run. So far, I have managed to run every weekend (both days) since January 11th. It is not much at all, but it is a start, especially considering that I have not run a mile for several years. For some idiotic reason, I decided to sign up for a 5K. Now, that probably seems like an easy, insignificant task to many of you, but for me I might as well have been running a full marathon. Anyhow, I signed up and did it this morning. I won’t say I ran the 5K, but I did finish it, so that is some sort of small victory for me, though admittedly a weak one. I am not going to write what my time was because, suffice to say, it was not great. So did I finally experience that runner’s high? Hell no.

Seriously, not once did euphoria hit throughout the whole ordeal. I did feel accomplishment, however, as I crossed the finish line. Going from not running at all to doing a 5k in about a month is not an accomplishment completely devoid of notoriety. As well, like the rest of my goals for this year, I will get better. That much I learned today. Keep going and get better. If nothing else, that was worth the entry fee. Oh and here is some proof of today’s activity.


Just realized that all this proves is that I was at a 5k, but not that I actually participated in it. Well, fuck…

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