Few joys rival a pure runner’s high — the strength, the adrenaline, the power. One positive rush can propel a runner to greater speeds or distances, and make even most jaded athlete love the experience.
But highs like that are rare and unpredictable, and the miles between them can be brutal. Bad runs turn into bad weeks turn into bad seasons. I go through long stretches where running isn’t fun, but I keep lacing up and pushing through it.
I ran four miles this morning. It wasn’t fun, but it was really, really fast. I’m running over a minute per mile faster than I was a year ago, due largely to the fact that I didn’t quit when it stopped being fun. I’m not a natural athlete, but what I lack in inherent skill, I make up for with my ability to suck it up and do the work.
It’s okay not to love it. Not always, at least. Even on the days when I’m not having fun, I’m still moving. I’m still outside. I’m still helping my heart. I’m still making progress and always moving forward.
Just keep putting in the work and have faith that the joy of running will return.