Running for the sake of running? That's crazy

I can understand the occasional need to run.

Running comes in handy if you're being chased by a foaming-at-the-mouth ogre wielding a bloody axe. Running makes sense if you're headed to the river to save a drowning infant. Or, if they're offering a limited supply of free cookies down the block.

But running for the sake of running? That's crazy.

That means Fargo had a greater share of crazies than normal last weekend because more than 20,000 people were there for the Fargo Marathon.

Not all of them were running a full marathon, which is 26 miles and change. There's also the half-marathon (you do the math), the 10-kilometer (6.2 miles) and the 5-kilometer (again, you can compute the mileage).

But I even question the sanity of the 5K competitors, unless they were using a golf cart.

That's because I despise running. It hurts the feet, the legs, the chest and the head. Plus, my body type isn't tall and lean, like most top distance runners. My body type is better suited for blocking the wind.

But I gave running two tries. The first was as a seventh-grader, when I went out for track. On the first day, we were instructed to run to the indoor facility, Red River Valley Winter Shows building, which was at least a mile from school. Once there, we took eight laps around the dirt track and then were ordered to run back to school.

The next day at 4 p.m., I was watching cartoons on the couch.

Then as a senior, basketball players were mandated by the coach to play a sport in the fall to get into condition. That meant either being a tackling dummy for the football players or running very long distances in cross country. This was like having a radio that only picks up the Scott Hennen and Ed Schultz shows.

I found a solution. Cross country practice was on the golf course. I'd run the first three holes to the other side of the course where my buddy met me with putter and wedge. I developed a very good short game that fall while the sympathetic cross country coach looked the other way because he didn't want us sentenced-to-run clowns there polluting his dedicated athletes.

At meet time, this meant the humiliation of watching 4-foot-10 seventh-graders run past me.

So shame plays a part in my hate/hate relationship with running. But mostly it comes from one of my life's philosophies: "Don't run if you can walk. Don't walk if you can sit. And don't sit if you can lie down."

Reach Bakken at (701) 780-1125; (800) 477-6572, ext. 125; or send e-mail to rbakken@gfherald.com .