You're at a cabin with no cell reception with three out-of-town friends. One has taken a it of an adventure. Naturally, you get a choppy phone call saying he's lost, but heading the direction the signs said to go to get back, but doesn't know where to turn. Thinking he's not far away, you say you'll meet him at the turn, throw the phone down on the couch and run out the door. And run up the first hill. And the second hill. And when you reach the third hill, you finally think to check the view to see if he's coming. He's not. One more hill and you decide this was a dumb idea. The turn is further than you thought. There are more hills than you thought. He's obviously not heading the direction you thought.
You turn around and run down the fourth hill, up and down the third, the second... once you find out this friend turned around and headed back out to the highway, you've ran 2km. And that's after your 30 minute run that morning.
But as you run down that last hill, round the corner, grab the keys to the truck and head out to the highway to track down your lost friend, you don't think about how sore your knees are for running without your knee braces, how tired your feet are from running in your beat up slipons, how you're certainly not glowing, you're sweating. Instead, you're thinking: "I ran 2k. In jeans. And I don't feel like I'm going to die".
And that's when waking up at 6:00am, battling wind, or suffering through humidity makes it worth it.
Because you know you're in shape.