There are two types of people in the world

It was snowing in Prague 2 at 7.15 this morning.

I know as together with hubby, I was outside running in it.  I mentioned a while ago that one of my over ambitious new year resolutions was to run four half marathons in 2012. As if this wasn’t enough, I decided to schedule the first one for March, just after the two most bitterly cold months in the Czech calendar.

I woke up this morning with the feeling of a school child going into their GCSE Chemistry exam.  It was dark outside and, I was fairly certain, perishing cold.  However, common wisdom says that you cannot train to run outside by being chained to a treadmill inside.  It’s just not the same thing.  Hubby and I agreed that we would run outside until there was snow on the ground.  This morning the snow was falling but not settling. Due to this technicality, we had to brace ourselves and head out into the cold. 

Hubby coaxed me out of bed by repeating my own mantras back to me.  All the things my inner voice would have said if it hadn’t been so sleepy: I will be grumpy all day if I don’t run.  It’s probably not as cold as it looks.  My running kit is on the radiator and is all toasty. A bowl of warm porridge will be waiting for me when I get back.

There are two types of people in the world. People who like to run and people who don’t understand those other people who like to run. 

There are mornings, like this one, when I wonder why on earth I am in the former group.  But I very much am. I become rather scratchy if I don’t run regularly and it is the only form of exercise that makes me feel truly healthy. Swimming, biking, yoga – I enjoy all of these but it’s only after a long run that I feel really fit.  

I love the way my muscles feel when I’m finished. I love the rhythm of heartbeat and seeing my breath, which this morning spiralled up above me like steam from a train. I love the moment when running stops being hard and starts feeling effortless (rare). 

More than anything I enjoy that rush of endorphins at the end, which makes me forget all about the cold and the dark and the early morning and makes the horror of running in the winter completely worthwhile.  I am a true addict.

Now, where’s my porridge?