Running a marathon is a little like eating scrapple... there are people who love it and swear it is the best thing in the world and others who think it is weird and totally unappealing. Just as some people can't imagine a better way to start a morning than eating a hearty breakfast complete with their favorite breakfast meat, there are some people who wake up on the weekends raring and ready to bang out 20 miles.
While I hate scrapple, I love running. I understand that this is something that baffles my mother, as she usually responds to my upcoming races with, "I wish you wouldn't," or "Are you sure you want to do that?" Nevertheless, come race day she's there, bundled up and clutching a cup of coffee, cheering me on as loud as she possibly can. She may not get my love of running and certainly wouldn't want to do it herself, but she's going to support me because she knows it means a lot to me.
I guess that's love. Doing things for your loved ones not because they are your thing, but because someone you love loves them. Not because their goals and hobbies make sense to you, or because their tastes are the same as yours, but because you see what makes them happy, and want them to feel that joy as often as possible--even if it means the kitchen has to stink like scrapple.