Running might not be for me, and that makes me sad

We’ve just had the London Marathon here in the UK, and I was reminded that seeing people run really inspires me. It’s the kind of thing which can be done by literally anyone, anywhere, with no equipment save for a comfortable pair of trainers. And there’s something extremely romantic about the idea of doing a bunch of miles first thing in the morning, no matter where you happen to be in the world, Casey Neistat-style. Every so often, I get sufficiently inspired that I start to do morning runs. I get up, get dressed, and head out pretty much immediately. I’ve been able to keep this going for at most a few weeks, but I inevitably fall off the wagon. The habit is very fragile; it can easily be interrupted by travel, or simply by me deciding that I don’t feel like it on a particular day. This just happened again recently, and I’m starting to wonder whether it’s worth continuing to beat this horse. Maybe running just isn’t for me. I think this makes me sad, because I really want to reach…