I hear the word “purist” runner thrown around a lot. When I hear it, I always picture someone clothed in something very earthy and non dri-wicking (maybe a toga, maybe a cotton 5k t-shirt from 1978) running barefoot through a field of wildflowers with deer frolicking by their side, song birds swooping overhead, and maybe even some cute bunny rabbits waving as you pass by. Sort of like if Snow White took up marathoning.
That run I evil eyeballed Rich into taking the Garmin along for? Instead of a mile, he ran 3.6 miles. (Hasn’t run since May, and has never been a “runner”). An hour later he’s still sitting around saying “I can’t believe I just ran 3.6 miles”. And then…the these magical words escaped his mouth “…so when is that half marathon again? I wonder if I could do it…”
I swear I’ll convert him yet!