I hate runners. Especially serious runners. Not quite as bad as serious cyclists, but not far off. The smug look. The emaciated bodies. The obsession with pasta.
I also hate running. I like lifting heavy things and punching stuff. I'm good at it. I am not good at running. My brain wanders. I get bored. I look ridiculous. But I'm also good at keeping going. I really am a stubborn bastard. This is my attempt at proving that being pig-headed will get me there in at least the top two-thirds.