Marathons are ruining my friendships. Something awful happens to people in their late 30s and early 40s that compels them to run marathons. I understand it’s a lofty goal that can give one a sense of accomplishment. But, when a friend tells me she’s training for a marathon, I know what that really means. Our friendship is on hold. She will spend every spare moment of the next few months training for this run. On the rare occasions I see her, our conversation will be a tedious account of how many miles she’s up to and her training regimen. She will stop drinking because it interferes with her running. So, I will drink more in order to listen to her myopic topic. Soon her goals get loftier, instead of just finishing the marathon, she wants to do it in a reasonable time. Requiring more training. All the while, I am secretly wishing her a nasty ankle sprain that will stop this madness. It’s not that I don’t want her to achieve her goals, it’s just that I hate how our friendship suffers.
Perhaps I’d be more sympathetic if I ever had the desire to run a marathon. I’m not even tempted to run a measly 5k. Honestly, I hate running. I’ve put in the time, and never get past the feeling that my heart is going to burst through my chest and kill me on the spot. The fact that I know of no one who has ever died of a heart explosion does nothing to allay my fears. I’m also seemingly incapable of the runner’s high. When a bumbling recent convert to the gym told me of his runner’s high, I just wanted to tell him to go to hell.
Now that I’ve been through this marathon business several times with a variety of friends, I realize that unless one becomes a regular marathon runner, the drive that pushed them out there – the search for something: happiness, accomplishment, recognition, is never attained. Once the race is run, they go back to their same daily questioning of their purpose in life. Then come the complaints about all the pounds they packed on after they stopped training. It starts all over again as they talk about running another marathon, which they never do. So, do us both a favor. Don’t run a marathon. Keep drinking, and let’s have some fun hanging out together.
I couldn’t agree more…. It really has become the epidemic of BORING! Oh look, I have a 26.2 sticker on my car. Lame. Lame. Lame. I don’t run, I don’t even drink much….How about marathons of eating junk food and playing video games? I think my brother in law’s marathon practically ruined their marriage… The “after marathon” discussion a year later and how they’ve gained weight annoys me the most. So, what did someone prove? That for six measly months of their lives they ran and then crossed a damn finish line. My other point of contention is people climbing Mt. Everest…. It has become a wasteland of trash and dead bodies.
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