This weekend, like many others over the past few years, I will wake up at 7 a.m. to eat breakfast and by 9 a.m. I will be standing somewhere in downtown Cincinnati at a start line, lacing up running shoes and checking my playlist.

Since starting college, I have run about 90 miles worth of races, from 5Ks to half marathons. It’s a mildly disgusting number, and by the end of this year I’ll have added another 26 to it.

I’ll be the first to admit it – running isn’t fun.

No one wakes up in the morning and says, “You know what sounds fun? Running for 30 minutes for no reason.” There are plenty of fun ways to exercise that don’t involve damaging your joints: yoga, rock climbing, cycling, Zumba and swimming.

Building up your endurance is time-consuming, painful and sometimes you feel like you’re getting nowhere. Running long distances hurts; your bones feel like they’re grinding together, your feet feel like they’re going to fall off and the amount you sweat could fill a small kiddie pool.

But there’s a reason you still see people around campus running through crowds on sidewalks, competing with cyclists for the title of ‘who is more obnoxious for pedestrians to deal with?’

Everything other than the actual running is fun. During races there’s a sense of comradery and after you run, whether it’s a quick jog on the treadmill or a marathon, there’s a sense of completion. If it’s a true race, there’s a party afterwards with food.

The morning of my first half marathon started on a gloomy, cold and misty October morning. Twenty minutes into my 2 hour race, it started raining and never stopped. It was 58 degrees. I was alone, cold and miserable.

But everyone was miserable and when I started to falter, a woman my age ran by, grabbed my shoulder and said “You can’t give up now!” She ran with me for a few miles, talking about how her brother took off and ditched her. We spent the next 20 minutes gossiping about how awful brothers can be.

Later on in the race, at a water station, an older man and I collided. For both of us, it was our first big race and we walked for a little while together talking about his grandchildren and my classes.

During a Thanksgiving Day race, to cheer up my dad, I started singing “The Circle of Life” and a group of people joined me; which is my second favorite race memory. Tied for first is every time I see someone running with their children or dog.

Even when people are at the start line at 6 a.m. to run upwards of 26 miles, you hear them mid-race joking about family, high-fiving and thanking volunteers. While wistfully thinking about the food and beer — or Bourbon at many races in Kentucky — at the finish line.

Saturday morning I’ll be up before the crack of dawn, whining over a cup of coffee with my dad before we gear up for the race. But when we get down to the race, we’ll meet up with our running buddies and take a selfie. Then the adrenaline will start pumping and I’ll start thinking about my finish-line beer.

[email protected]