I've never been a runner.

I engage in activities — surfing, swimming, power-napping — that don't involve running. I prefer to burn calories moving furniture than jogging around my neighborhood. Even in high school, I would find a way out of any PE class that involved a track.

Running, I decided early on, was not for me.

But ironically, my lifestyle dictates otherwise.

I usually work two jobs, squeezing in lunches and grocery-shopping between meetings and deadlines. I check four e-mail accounts, subscribe to six magazines and read at least two books simultaneously.

Running is the most efficient workout for someone like me.

And yet, I detest it. I dread lacing up my running shoes and hitting the pavement. Those first five minutes of running are sheer torture, my head throbbing, my lower back revolting. I think over and over again, "Why am I doing this? This isn't fun! I want a donut!"

This love-hate relationship with running started in grade school, when I signed up to play volleyball. My coach emphasized the importance of cross-training and forced us — OK, maybe coerced us — into running track, too.

My first 400-meter race at a track meet at Punahou School remains one of the most painful memories of my childhood. I cursed my coach's name the entire time.

But being as stubborn as my Portuguese grandma and afflicted as an Aries, I didn't entirely give up running, despite how much I hated it.

For years I've been circling parks, struggling across beaches and persevering up hills several times a week, logging enough miles on my Asics GT-2130 that I need to get new shoes every six months.

But why, when running, or more the anticipation of it, stresses me out?

Why was I punishing myself every week, forcing myself to run around Diamond Head when I'd rather be surfing the waves below?

It comes down to one annoying thing: I don't have time to do anything else.

Like many people — women, especially — I barely have enough time to shave my legs, let alone fit in a workout. And running, with its only two requirements, shoes and a path, is so convenient. You can do it anywhere, at any time, and burn serious calories in a short amount of time. In just half an hour, I can torch more than 500 calories running. That's a cheeseburger Happy Meal with a Diet Coke.

And though I don't get that elusive "high" that runners so often gush about, I do get a sense of satisfaction that I overcame the urge to watch a "Project Runway" marathon and eat directly from an ice cream carton to do something more healthful and productive.

So until someone comes up with a surfing workout that can melt away a pint of Ben & Jerry's in just 20 minutes, running will have to do.

And I'll have to learn to love it.

Reach Catherine E. Toth at ctoth@honoluluadvertiser.com. Read her daily blog at blogs.honoluluadvertiser.com.