I Am Running Right Now Because...

Lowbrow Answer: It's Raining and I want to Get Inside.
Hey, sissy. It's just water. If it were raining chainsaws or wolverines with liver cancer, then I'd be okay with you running to get inside. But it's not. So grow a pair. You can take it, I promise. People in the 1800's used to kill buffalo using nothing but a homemade spoon and a wagon wheel. You can handle some water in your hair.

People get so crazy when it rains. It's like somebody flips the let's-drive-like-idiots-and-be-grumpy-all-day switch. Lighten up. It's only rain. Without it, we don't get any crops or any drinking water or any opportunity to get soaking wet while we do epic, hyper-romantic things for our girlfriends.


Middlebrow Answer: A Bear is Chasing Me.
Okay, while part of me thinks you should sack up, turn around, and kick the bear in the face, I understand why you're running. Bears are scary. Especially those big brown ones in Alaska that eat conservationist filmmakers. (Hiyo! "Grizzly Man" joke. Too soon?) You better be in good shape if you're running from a bear; some of them can get moving as fast as a Volkswagon Jetta or one of those other little pussy cars.

Instead of running from the bear, why not invite it over to your place for some green tea and lemon squares? Or maybe take it to a Twilight movie or something. That's the thing about bears, man. Nobody ever gives them a chance. We spend all our time running from them when, really, all they're looking for is a nice meal and some good conversation. Although maybe I'm wrong. I haven't taken any biology since 6th grade.


Highbrow Answer: The Boston Marathon is Coming Up.
Competitive running is sport in its purest form. No cheerleaders or foul shots or extra points here. Just men in tiny shorts running for two hours. (sidebar: can somebody explain to me the reason for the extra point? He's kicking the ball from like, ten yards away. They never miss. Just give the guy seven points for the touchdown and let's move on with our lives.)

Long distance running, particularly, is the sport of kings. You ever run a marathon? It blows. Your legs burn, your arms ache, and your nipples bleed. Yes. You heard me right. Your nipples bleed. Sounds fun, huh? It's not. It's horrifying. Which is exactly why it's so fucking highbrow.