Wow. I’m running a 5K in a few hours. Can you believe it? How many times have I made fun of my brother for this “hobby” of his called “exercising.” How many times have I mentioned that I enjoy running about as much as I enjoy trips to the gynecologist. (read: NOT AT ALL.) Yet somehow, I started running three times a week at the Y. And somehow, I got myself up to running 4 miles at a time. FOUR DAMN MILES. That’s a long way. And somehow, I am registered to run a race today. How did all of this happen?
Baby steps. I just took baby steps. And I’m here, and I’m actually really proud of myself. I’m not one to harp on how awesome I am (I don’t want to make you jealous) – but I’m DAMN awesome. If you had told me a year ago (when I was 34 weeks pregnant – HA!) that I’d be running a 5K, I would have said, “Yeah – sure. Crackhead.”
(Watch me get out there, run half of a mile, and then have to walk the rest of the way because the shock in my system of running on the ground instead of a treadmill will keep me from completing the race. Hell, just running without watching TV at the same time may send my system into shock.)
Goals: I’m will run the entire 5K. No walking. I’m not going to worry about the fact that my 59-year old Dad (who is in town) will be finishing a day or two before I do. I will not try to intentionally trip small children who pass me on the route. I will not think about the time of my run. I will only think about rewarding myself with a Pumpkin Cream Cheese bagel from Bruegger’s.