So. I HATE running. If I run a block my knee buckles and I get a sharp pain in my side and I decide that whatever I’m running for isn’t important enough to keep it up. But I admire those who do it.
Today we were storm chasers for Hitomi, who was running her first full marathon. We stopped in 5 places around town to shout for her, hold up signs and provide moral support. And there were all kinds of people running the marathon. Young, old, flabby, fit, worried, smiling, limping, walking, running, etc. And I was like, *I* can do this. Even if I just held a power walk, I could at least finish it, which is my only goal. I watched 70-year-old men run by and I was so encouraged.
And I decided, “I’m going to run the marathon. Okay, half marathon. One year from today, I’m running the half marathon.”
Just Friday we were talking about the Marathon and Josh asked, “Are you going to run it?”
And I said, “Am I being chased?”
But . . . if all those other people can do it . . . maybe I can, too. So what if I hate running? I also hate going to an uncreative job everyday. I hate washing dishes. (Just ask the science projects sitting on my counter right now.) Sometimes I hate meditating.
And given the option of running, doing any of the above, or jabbing myself in the eye with a chopstick dipped in Sriracha- uh, running still comes in 3rd.
BUT. Things change. Running can only do me good. Obviously physically- I’ll probably gain weight from running. Weight meaning muscle. Muscle meaning on my legs and ass. No problems there. And with breasts like these, I’ve already got an advantage over all the other runners!! Hell, these breasts were MADE for running. But on another level- if I actually run regularly, I might scrounge up some of those things that have always been my weak areas: discipline and determination. And maybe that will help other aspects of my life.
But first, I need to go shopping for a pair of running shoes . . .
