What’s worse than a worm in your apple? Running.

Manfriend did a bad thing. Or maybe it was a good thing. Or maybe it was me who did the bad good thing.

Let me start over.

There are two things you need to know about me: (1) I hate working out of any kind, and (2) I think running is the worst form of working out ever invented. My view is that maybe I’d run when I’m chased, but finding a good hiding spot would probably be more useful.

Sure I like the idea of running, in the sense that people are always saying what a stress buster it is, and running clothes are totally cute. But in execution? I start heaving after a half mile. You can just forget about a full mile; it’s not happening.

But I read an awesome blog post over at ShannonFromScratch the other day and it got me thinking. She didn’t try to make running sounds like some amazing problem solver, but instead as a challenge and an accomplishment. I could really relate to what she was saying and that’s what sold it to me. I don’t have to drink the Kool-Aid and become a marathoner. I can find my own balance that works for me. And maybe it really would be a good thing for my health and my riding (as an added bonus, it would shock Father Dearest when he heard that his oft-sedentary daughter was moving on her own two feet voluntarily).

So here we arrive at the good/bad thing I mentioned earlier: manfriend asked me to go running with him on Friday. And I said yes.

Kicking and screaming and bargaining over how far we’d go, I said yes. He had too many arguments for why it would be good for me (get me in better shape for riding, help me sleep better, get those dopamine levels up), and when that seemed ineffective he told me that he hates running alone. Guilt trip, ticket for one. His persuasive powers combined with the perfect timing on that awesome blog post sold it.

Sneakers donned and rarely-worn workout attire on, we set out the door. My commentary started up as soon as we hit the sidewalk:

“Aren’t we supposed to walk for a while? To warm up or something? I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to walk more. And we’re definitely supposed to walk around corners. Blind spots and center of balance and such. Do lungs normally make that sound? High impact activities aren’t good for my knees. My hands are cold. My nose is running. Are we almost done?”

All that before we even hit a quarter mile.

With the patience of a saint, manfriend pushed me when I slowed down and encouraged me when I kept up. He kept me out there just past what I thought my limit was and then let me catch my breath. Seriously, he’s the best. And you know what I thought about the whole thing?

It was just as bad as I knew it would be.

Nah just kidding, it was fine. Despite the wheezing and the cramps and the goshdarn freezing air in my lungs, I survived to blog another day. Did I love it? No. Did I feel like I had accomplished something really cool when we were done? Abso-frickin-lutely.

I might even go run again with him sometime.

Are you a running aficionado, or do you loathe it entirely? Any tips to make this whole “running” thing more bearable?