I learned/realized a long time ago I'm not a good runner. A 7:4ish mile mid 5k won't change the world and 9:16 mile mid-half won't either. I did it to prove I could. An overweight, asthmatic, could work toward and conquer what they thought they never could. Ironically, along the way I found many sympathetic friends and a ridiculous amount of running knowledge.
I told my friend the other week I quit. No more running. No mas. I wasn't totally truthful. Since the bug hit me, I can't give it up. I found peace putting one foot in front of the other.
That said, I've gotten back to lifting, my first and most enduring passion. I feel good. I feel fulfilled...at least in one aspect. So you wanna hit a slow few miles holla, but in the meantime I'll be grunting with the basement weights.
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