The lone walker has taken up running.
For half a century I have hated running. I have tried it a number of times over the years, and each time I have hated it. Sometimes I just disliked it. During such times of not-quite-euphoria I would keep up the running habit for a while, disliking it less as I became more accustomed to the exercise. But soon the monotony would get to me, and I would find it increasingly difficult to motivate myself to get out of bed, get into some shoes and get out the door. The number of days between runs would add up and, eventually, I was back to hating running.
I hated the feeling of being out of breath almost as soon as I started. I hated feeling as if I wanted to vomit. I hated that sob that got stuck in my throat. I hated running…
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