When I was a little girl, I ran through cornfields and cow fields, across logs over creeks and down rolling hills of wheat. I ran after lightening bugs at night and after June bugs in the sunshine. I ran after my sisters and puppies and kites. I ran far. I ran fast.
When I was a teenager, I ran around tracks of cinders, along field roads doing telephone pole drills, up rock piles by the high school. I ran after boys and from boys. I ran with confidence, ran and jumped through the air and leaned across finish lines. I ran with love of the sport, genuine and pure. I ran because I was good at it and it made me feel powerful. I ran on teams with members I'll remember forever. I ran partly because my dad ran and told stories of his love, because I shared it with him. I ran alongside the love of my life. And I ran fast... really fast.
When I was in my 20s, I just didn't run. And I got fatter. And my mind got boring.
I am in my 30s... barely, but I am. And I am running again. And it feels grand. It is no where near the elegant and sexy caliber of years gone by, but it's still running.
About 2 months ago, Chris reassured me to pay the money I didn't think I could justify to have a neighborhood trainer help me get back in shape. In those 9 weeks, I have gone from a unsightly mile to under a 10 minute mile. I strive every few weeks to "test" myself and increase my body's abilities. Gone from 30 pushups in a minute to 55 pushups in a minute to diamond pushups. I do squats and situps and crunches and jumping jacks and so many other calisthenics that is makes my body hurt. And while my body will not likely go back to what it once was, it feels good. But my mind feels even better than my body.
And that makes me smile.
I love that I feel happier, more confident & healthier at old than at young.
Keep it a coming!
Regardless of how fast I move...
I am forever a runner.