It'll never be Pippa's

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.