Partners in Crime are the people that get us going. I have a few very good friends that I certainly consider my partners in crime, but this is not about them. This post is for the partners in crime you randomly find out there. You don’t know them, they don’t know you but you share the same passion or foolishness and instantly you are a happy person. On my long list of things-I-would-never-do and ended up doing is Running.
I was always into sports since I was a kid, but I hated running, I was absolutely bad at it. I was slow, so slow that I am pretty sure a sloth would beat me easily. I simply was the very last person to cross the finish line. But that’s the good thing about being into sports, you know your strengths and your weaknesses and you are fine with that. So I wasn’t good at running or jumping, it wasn’t the end of the world. Why should I run anyway, right?
Moving to London was a life changing event for me in many aspects and for many reasons. However, one of the very first things that I noticed here and made fun of is that people love exercising. Now, let me clarify, I didn’t make fun of the exercising part but I did comment on the fact they will go for a run and they will ride their bikes regardless the weather: sunshine, rain, drizzle, snow nothing will stop Londoners to go outdoors. Back then, for me if it was raining that was the end of my outdoors activities. Raining meant stay in and do absolutely nothing, so watching people running in the rain I had to say it out loud ‘Are they crazy? Who does that?’
Let me fast forward to two years later and the answer would be me; as always, because I have to taste my own medicine every single time. I fell in love with running, I am ashamed to say. I became one of these crazy people that I used to make fun of. I will go out for a run in the rain, in the cold, before dawn, late at night, I have even gone running on Christmas Day. And every time that I am out there swearing why I am doing this to myself, why I am out in the rain instead of lying in my bed, why I have to be so stupid and crazy that’s the moment that I would see someone else running as well. We may cross paths smile and nod at each other, recognising that it takes a specific kind of craziness to do something like that, but because of this craziness they will have my respect and I will have theirs.
Runners are kind and supportive, they will overtake me but they will never make me feel that I am in their way and they will even motivate me while they are running along with me. Runners are the best partners in crime I know. They make me feel less lonely and less crazy; they get me going when I feel I have no strength left or when I am out of breath. I like runners who are slower than me, because they make me feel proud of me and themselves, as I realise that I was exactly like them but I have improved. I love runners who are faster than me as they inspire me every day.
Runners are nice, they are not cyclists. Cyclists are mean and I found out this first hand, because of course I cycled to work, in the rain, in the dark, in the middle of bloody nowhere. But this is another story, another thing of my never-would-do-that list.