The Road Less Traveled Sucks

I have to admit, I'd rather take the road more traveled. It's probably shorter, there's less chance I'll get mugged, and there might be some sort of concession stand. Is there a way to develop a taste for adventure? Because, as of now, I don't have it.

That's why this crazy winter/summer/rain/snow/70-degree Alabama weather is really bumming me out. It's reeking havoc on my running schedule, and I can't settle into a routine.

I liked running in the mornings, but now it stays dark so long that I can't get to work on time (I could if I skipped Starbucks, but that's not happening). I started running in the afternoon, but if I get wrapped up talking to coworkers about catalog copy (or, let's be honest, Rob Pattinson), it gets dark before I even leave the office.

Anyway, I miss my routine. (And I miss changing into running clothes somewhere other than the bathroom at Starbucks Mountain Brook ... although I think it's funny that every time I'm in there, someone else is also changing into workout gear in the next stall.) So I decided to join a gym.

Dawson Memorial Baptist Church seems like a great deal: It's $25 a month, you don't have to be a church member, and you can pay month to month. Perfect, since I only intend to be trapped inside on a treadmill for the winter months when it's necessary.

Trouble is, I'm not going, even though I want to go. I want to run. I want to be one of those girls who throws her gym bag in the back of her car every day. But it's unknown, and the unknown is scary.

My English professors said that when Robert Frost said the road less traveled "has made all the difference," he was being ironic. They said he was really saying that it didn't matter, since all roads led to the same place.

Maybe, in this case, my English professors were right (I'm not as sure about all the phallic symbolism they found in EVERYTHING, but that's another blog). I could force myself to stick to a routine — buy a headlamp and run every morning. Or, I could conquer my fear, walk into Dawson, and take the treadmill less traveled.

Maybe the point isn't whether I take the easy way or the hard way. Maybe the point is, one way or another, I just keep running.