I never liked running.
This may sound odd coming from someone that ran (jogged slowly) cross country in high school, but I hated the idea of just moving in a single direction for elongated periods of time with only my thoughts plaguing me. Thus, one of the happiest days of my high school career was my last race. I set a record time for myself, 24 minutes 10 seconds in the 5K, took some pictures, smiled a lot and cheerfully told myself that I would never do anything this stupid again.
I was wrong.
Over the past few months, I started to run again. Due to an insane amount of motivation and stupidity, one run turned into two, which turned into months and months of sweating through Europe.
I started this mission only running inside on the treadmill and eventually I ran a few 5Ks by myself again. I assumed that would be all, but I actually surprised myself; I kept on running.
Eventually, I got bored — like I always do — running inside, so now it was time to make the trek out of the building. First, I bought an armband like any imbecile would so I could play Future, Chance the Rapper and Kanye without subjecting children to the expletives. I then started at a park, Finsbury Park to be exact, and ran 5 miles. This may not seem like a lot to you, but this was a lot to me.
Then, it hit me. I could do this; I can actually follow through on this. With a hell of a lot of inspiration behind me, I started trying to run more and more every day. Eventually, I ran eight miles, which is too much for anyone to run and something that I would not recommend. Then, I ran eight miles again the next day. I ran to Emirates Stadium (accidentally the first time), ran along the water by King’s Cross, ran through the Swiss Alps, ran in an Irish park where all of the truly intelligent people were drinking at 8:30 in the morning.
I couldn’t stop.
I still don’t know if I like running, but it’s definitely better than sitting in my room all day watching Netflix and eating Pringles (they don’t have goldfish here, which is my number one complaint about London).
I actually got to explore the city, see places I never would have noticed and sometimes even got to give a passing head nod to other runners on the streets.
As of this moment, since January 15, I have run 216.2 miles, which is 216.2 more than I expected when I flew into London.
The most impressive statistic is that out of the four months I’ve been here, I’ve only taken 13 days off, mostly due to travel or work getting in the way.
So, that’s my story. Thanks for reading.
Here are a few pictures of places that I ended up after running.