One of my best friends, Kate, ran the Boston Marathon yesterday. Yes, that Boston Marathon – the 113th Boston Marathon to be exact. It was her second time running it and quite frankly, I don’t know how she does it. I can’t run to the end of the block to save my life. I hate running. My boyfriend told me last night that I either hate thing or love things. He’s wrong. I don’t hate running – I loathe it.

I’ve always said you had to be a certain type of person to like running. I don’t know if that’s true or if it’s just my sorry excuse to not do it. A brisk walk now and then? Sure. Run around like a gazelle? Absolutely not.

This time of year in Indy people are always asking, “Are you running the mini?” as if it’s as normal as asking if I watched American Idol last night. As if I’m supposed to because it’s trendy. My answer to that: HELL NO, I’m not running the mini. I’m as likely to run that damn thing as I am to fly to the moon. I am however, fascinated by those who actually run because they enjoy it. Those people who get off on adrenaline and their feet pounding pavement for hours. Those people like Kate.

This year, Kate ran on behalf of the Boston Children’s hospital and a five-year-old boy named Tyler who was born with a congenital heart defect. She raised over $3,000 and finished the marathon with a time of 3:24:50. I truly couldn’t be more proud to call that woman my friend.

I have to say, it’s inspiring. I’m walking in the three mile Multiple Sclerosis walk this weekend with my friend Olenka’s team. I may not run like a gazelle or watch American Idol, but you can bet your ass I’ll finish that walk on Saturday.