I've started running again. And I, of course, use the term "running" very loosely. When "running" is defined as "slowly jogging at a steady pace, that, by the way, most four year olds could keep up with"; that's the kind of running I do.
I have the same love/hate relationship that I have always had with it, and I suspect most real runners do as well. I hate getting up earlier in the morning. I hate being drizzled on. I hate feeling tired and sore, BUT...I love that I actually got up and did it. I love that I am being proactive with my health. And I love the feeling of accomplishment.
Currently, I'm running 2 miles about 3-5 times a week. I run to I-5 and back. Not super far, but it is a start and helps me get back on track to running a 5K. There almost as many 5K races here in Seattle as there are Starbucks (welllll, not exactly, but you get my drift). I haven't picked out which race I'm going to try for yet, but I'm hoping to run one in January or February.
I know you're dying to know what my motivation is for my running restart, right? Reading about so many friends running the St. Jude marathon? Nope. Wanting to lose a few pounds before going back to TN for Christmas? Nada. It was simply something my brother said. Well, the 14-year-old version of my brother, that is.
I had on black jogging pants a couple of weeks ago (because the maid was getting behind with the laundry, curse her!). For whatever reason, I was checking myself out in the mirror. I suddenly noticed that my rear was, well, not in best form. INSTANTLY, I was zipped back to a scene in the kitchen when my brother and I were teenagers. I was getting ready for prom/had a new pair of jeans/something like that and decided to ask Will how I looked. Being the sensitive, supportive brother he was, he said something like "O.K., I guess. At least your butt doesn't jiggle." Ahhh, words a teenage girl can live by. And a grown one for that matter. No matter how big I was compared to my friends, how my body has changed through child-bearing years, I reminded myself of those words. Until a couple of weeks ago.
So here I am. 35 and mother of 3. Pastor's wife. Wanting to love the lost and care for the hurting. Still trying to figure out who I'm going to be when I grow up. And determinded to get up at 5:30 a.m. and run, so my bum won't jiggle.
