This article about an 85-year-old marathoner has a really remarkable penultimate paragraph.
It makes sense to me. I did cross-country in high school. I got no competitive enjoyment out of it: I was not good at the sport, I never won anything, if I was lucky I came in only second or third to last. I ran a mile once in under seven minutes and that was a major milestone. I did not enjoy the experience of running, either: it made me feel even worse about my body than usual, I never experienced a runners' high, and it was not even physically elating in the same way as singing. I did not have friends on the team. I think the coach was bewildered that I didn't quit. I loved, however, having the ability to run five miles without needing to stop. I still miss it sometimes. And that was worth all the pain and hassle and tedium.
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It makes sense to me. I did cross-country in high school. I got no competitive enjoyment out of it: I was not good at the sport, I never won anything, if I was lucky I came in only second or third to last. I ran a mile once in under seven minutes and that was a major milestone. I did not enjoy the experience of running, either: it made me feel even worse about my body than usual, I never experienced a runners' high, and it was not even physically elating in the same way as singing. I did not have friends on the team. I think the coach was bewildered that I didn't quit. I loved, however, having the ability to run five miles without needing to stop. I still miss it sometimes. And that was worth all the pain and hassle and tedium.