It's a strange relationship that I have with the running. I don't hate it. I don't dislike it. I do enjoy it most of the time, and I even have rare moments where I think things like "I am so excited for this 6 mile run." But I can't say that I love it.
I do love it I guess when I am done running. That is my favorite part of the run - the part at the end, where I walk around with my hands on my hips, letting my breathing return to normal, letting the sweat drip off my face, thinking (wishfully?) that the people who are looking at me might be wondering how much I just ran (haha - the joke is on them, because I look the same after two miles as I do after five). I guess it's the feeling of accomplishment that I take with me as I stand there, again - hands on hips, letting my body an mind return to the state it is in for the majority of my days and nights. Or then again, maybe it the feeling of knowing that I am DONE for the day, and don't have to run again for 23 more hours.
So I don't love it, but I guess I love how it makes me feel. I'm sure I've had boyfriends like that. Ones that payed far too much attention to me, bought me dinner and treated me to fine dates, all for minimal attention from me in return. Is this relationship with running like a relationship with an endearingly sweet boyfriend who you sometimes feel bad for taking advantage of, but you forget your guilt as soon as he compliments you on something silly for the second time in a few minutes? (whoa, check out that run-on sentence)
Then again, I was never upset when those same endearingly sweet boyfriends wised up and let me go. My hip has been a little achy, and I am terrified that if I go to the doctor he will tell me that I can't run anymore. Maybe I have more feelings towards running than I thought I did.