Running: Something I love to hate.

So once every spring and fall I get this bright idea called, "I should go running." The desire usually manifests itself during a sunny day in which I've been feeling rather sedentary, and it's always spurred by hope that a few months of running will result in a body like Kate Bosworth ala Blue Crush. (I know she's a surfer...but for lack of surfing options, running will have to suffice.)

"I should go running" day always begins with hope and ends in rampant disappointment. Yesterday was the first of 2007's series of disappointing running days...

The day didn't start out spectacular. My car door was frozen shut, and I had to crawl in through the less-frosted passenger door and then attempt to kick open the driver's door. (To no avail of course.) So I was driving down Hwy 20, wondering if I'd ever be able to open the Driver's side door. (When the door, of course, thawed and opened. PTL that the door was locked, otherwise I might have been strewn on Hwy 20 with my car continuing on its way.)

By mid-afternoon, however, the snow melted and it was sunny and springish outside. I enjoyed a stroll across the lawn in my capri's, and immediately thought, "I should go running." I put on all of my favorite running year (capri track pants, trail runners, a Nike running fleece, a bandana, and my iPod). I did lots of stretches. I called my roommate to let her know to leave the door unlocked...and I began "running."

After about fifty feet of running, I discovered that the air was a lot colder than it had seemed an hour earlier, when I'd made the decision to run...but I pressed on. The air felt heavy at first. Then, it started to sting. And suddenly, of course, I'm 1/2 mile from the house, staring at the snow banks next to the river, hating my life. My knee was beginning to ache; it was getting dark; and now I have a 1/2 mile walk back to the house in the dark and cold, barely able to breathe.

I returned home, frustrated that Washington does not entertain year-round perfect weather so as to always cater to my "I should go running" needs. And I pretended that twenty minutes of ballet stretches on the living room floor equates to toned body in the same way that running does.

Six hours later, as I laid in bed, my knee was crying out in pain saying, "Darn you, Heather! If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times: low-impact activities!" I shrugged my shoulders, frustrated that running had once again seemed like a good idea, but confident that once the warm weather appears for real, I'll be compelled to try again.