Running up that road, running up that hill, with A LOT of problems

I am not a runner. I have dabbled. I have tried hard to like it. I have tried. I know how amazing you feel once the run is done, but the reward does not seem to pay off for the effort involved. I'd rather head to the gym for some elliptical action or pull out my yoga mat and stretch till I can't stretch no more. I notice a lot of runners out there. I often see you huffing and puffing on my morning commute or while I sit here by the window — in pajamas and drinking coffee — writing this post. I cannot understand when it's -20 and snow is blowing all around and you are out there, unhinged, running your little heart out, breathing in the icy air like a lunatic. I shiver taking out my recycling — and there you are; I bundle up and run across the street to the corner store to buy — no doubt something my body doesn't need — and there you are; I make the 10 minute trek to the LCBO for more wine — and there you are running, mocking me with your crazy toned ass and clinically-insane firm thighs.