I hate running.

The very idea of having to push my body and my mind for an extended period of time just turns me off.

It always starts off well, full of energy and full of promise. The first lap’s the easiest because the mind’s still strong and the body stronger.

The middle laps are difficult. My mind starts playing tricks on me. The 2nd and 3rd lap always brings about the question of why am I putting myself through this sheer mental torture. While the 4th and 5th laps are the not as bad because I keep telling myself that I’ve finished the halfway mark and the end’s in sight.

The last lap is what I really hate about running. It’s this lap that really gets me questioning the wisdom of starting the run in the 1st place. It’s the lap that my body starts getting really tired. But worst of all it’s the lap that my mind starts giving up. I think it’s peculiar to me but it doesn’t matter the distance or how hard I’m running, as long as I’m in the last lap, I start breathing harder and quicker and my mind starts giving up.

I hate this feeling but it doesn’t mean I stop running because I know that it’s what I want.