I would never in a million years have considered myself a runner in any stretch of the imagination. Maybe if I was being chased. Or that forced mile for volleyball in 90 degree weather. Sounds fun right?
Except then I got to thinking. Running is a sport I could do on my own, determine the time spent, and involved nothing other than a decent pair of shoes (and well, an inhaler).
I got this crazy idea in my head that for my 21st birthday, my present to myself would be running a 5k. Yeah... I pick cool presents, be jealous.
So I started working at it, slowly as to not discourage my "can't run a mile" self. Eventually after a few weeks of running at 7 am even with my struggles to want to stay in my toasty warm bed, I worked up to 2 miles and finally to 3.
Despite my 6th-8th grade P.E. teacher and the River Hill volleyball coach's efforts to remind me that I sucked at running, I managed to prove them wrong.
But more importantly, I proved myself right. And I can actually say that I enjoy running. For real (mom).
As in. I ran 3.1 miles.
And I lived to tell about it. Let's just say, this won't be the last.
The sub-40 degree temperatures yesterday morning along with wind & rain put a slight damper on the run as well as a hint of blue on my legs.
Jon came out for some moral support and much appreciated body-heat stealing as I waited for the race to start. It. was. freezing. Plus I can pretend that I have my own personal photographer :) -- pictures to come later maybe.
