Ok, this is completely unrelated to feminism, but that doesn’t matter.
I am training for the City 2 Surf, which, for those of you who don’t live anywhere near Sydney, is a 14 km run from a Hyde Park in the middle of Sydney to Bondi Beach. I have heard that tens of thousands of people enter this race. This is my first time . It is not, however, my first ‘fun’ run. When I was in my late teens / early 20s I did a few runs, including two half-marathons, both on the Gold Coast. I have also done several shorter ones, the most recent (a few months ago) being the ‘Fitness Five’ here in Wollongong, which is a comparatively breezy 5k run. So, in a nutshell, I run a bit, and have been for years.
The thing is, I have a love/hate relationship with running. Most of the time I hate it, and I never run just for the heck of it. I only run if I am training for something specifically. I’m not sure why I choose to run. I do know that I like the challenge, and I also like how my appetite increases during the few months before a race when I up my exercise regime. Because I love eating…especially cakes and biscuits. In fact, I would prefer to bake a cake and then eat a piece then go for a run. Another benefit is that I tend to sleep better if I am physically tired.
Anyway, as I was running aimlessly yesterday (Sunday is my so-called ‘recovery’ run – some recovery!) I wondered why I had never heard of any running events of, say, 32 kms. The half-marathon and the marathon are the main long-distance races. But that seems to be a huge leap – from 21kms to 42kms. I could conceivably imagine running 21kms again if I prepared properly. But the thought of 42 is just nasty.