I have always hated running.
Despised it, even. Broke out in a rash at the thought of it. I honestly believed that my legs were simply not meant to move at speed, that my heart was not intended to beat fast, and that a "runner's high" was a fake concept invented to sell sneakers. I would never, ever, ever, be a runner.
Watch the hosts of Mamamia Out Loud discussing the rise of 'dawn culture' in Australia. Post continues below.
Until my second baby was born, that is, and I desperately needed an excuse to escape the house, even for 20 minutes. A few months later… I was kind of addicted. Twelve months later? I ran 21 kilometres. In a row.
If you're thinking that you're the type of person who could never do that, please let me assure you: if I can do it, so can you — but please take the opportunity to learn from my mistakes first.
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