This is what I wanted to say here

One of my favorite Fan Pages on Facebook is I ❤ to run. They post great inspirational pictures, quotes, and in general great running related stuff.

Earlier this week they posted this picture

with the following text that had me in tears by the end.
Hey, Fat Girl.

Yes, you. The one feigning to not see me when we cross paths on the running track. The one not even wearing sports gear, breathing heavy. You’re slow, you breathe hard and your efforts at moving forward make you cringe.

You cling shyly to the furthest corridor, sometimes making larger loops on the gravel ring by the track just so you’re not on it. You sweat so much that your hair is all wet. You rarely stay for more than 20 minutes at a time, and you look exhausted when you leave to go back home. You never talk to anyone. I’ve got something I’d like to say to you.

You are awesome. If you’d look me in the eye only for an instant, you would notice the reverence and respect I have for you. The adventure you have started is tremendous; it leads to a better health, to renewed confidence and to a brand new kind of freedom. The gifts you will receive from running will far exceed the gigantic effort it takes you to show up here, to face your fears and to bravely set yourself in motion, in front of others.

You have already begun your transformation. You no longer accept this physical state of numbness and passivity. You have taken a difficult decision, but one that holds so much promise. Every hard breath you take is actually a tad easier than the one before, and every step is ever so slightly lighter. Each push forward leaves the former person you were in your wake, creating room for an improved version, one that is stronger, healthier and forward-looking, one who knows that anything is possible.

You’re a hero to me. And, if you’d take off the blaring headphones and put your head up for more than a second or two, you would notice that the other runners you cross, the ones that probably make you feel so inadequate, stare in awe at your determination. They, of all people, know best where you are coming from. They heard the resolutions of so many others, who vowed to pick up running and improve their health, “starting next week”. Yet, it is YOU who runs alongside, who digs from deep inside to find the strength to come here, and to come back again.

You are a runner, and no one can take that away from you. You are relentlessly moving forward. You are stronger than even you think, and you are about to be amazed by what you can do. One day, very soon, maybe tomorrow, you’ll step outside and marvel at your capabilities. You will not believe your own body, you will realize that you can do this. And a new horizon will open up for you. You are a true inspiration.

I bow to you.

Once I stopped blubbering, I “Shared” it and added the following comment of my own:
Totally worth it to read ALL the words and not just get pissed off and stop at the first three.

I was just having this conversation with a younger, more experienced, and better-than-me runner on Saturday (Monday, it was Monday). When I first started running I assumed that more experienced, better-than-me runners resented my fat ass being out there on ‘their’ trail taking up space and giving them an obstacle to avoid. Right up until the day that I ‘jokingly’ commented something to that effect to one of those more experienced, better-than-me runners who looked me dead in the face and in all seriousness said “Actually, Julianne, I admire you for doing what you are doing in beginning running and getting out here and putting in the miles!”

That, ladies and gentlemen, was one of my life’s great “Aha”moments.
I felt inferior not because of them, but because I chose to. And I short-changed other people in the process.

Whether your “thing” is running or whatever it is – there will always be someone who is more experienced and ‘better-than-you’. But realize one thing: The only one seeing that “betterness” is generally you. What they are seeing is your effort and that you are Doing It.

And that, my friends, is the truth of the best thing about running.
It’s the community.
It’s having people ask “Hey, where are you running today? Can I join you?”
It’s having those ‘better’, more experienced runners tell you that they are inspired by you.
It’s running into people on the trail and not just getting “The Runner’s Wave” but getting the “Hey! I know you, we’ve run/volunteered at races/coached together” Wave!
It is, to be honest, being one of The Cool Kids at races. The people who Know Each Other.
It’s walking into the local running store and knowing (within 10 – 20 miles) how many miles are on your current pair of shoes and being able to discuss the reasons you suspect it’s time to get a new pair.

Speaking of shoes.
That pair you see up there at the top of these posts aren’t my current running shoes. They’re not even my most recently replaced pair of running shoes. They are, as of last Sunday, two pairs back. They’re my ‘knock around’ shoes. And I’ll probably always keep them at the top of this blog, even if I end up donating them to the shoe recycling program at our local running store, because those were the shoes that were on my feet when I crossed my first Finish Line as A Runner.

These are my new shoes (the ones on the left) alongside my most recently replaced pair. You have to love a sport that gives you a reason to buy new shoes every few hundred miles!

The heel/sole wear is the reason for the replacement.
You learn a lot about shoes when you run!

I have another post to write about my last Long Run in preparation for next weekend’s Half Marathon, but that one’s still percolating in my brain.  It was an ugly, ugly run and I know precisely why.  You’ll just have to come back to find out!

Lessons From The Fall

Lessons not “Legends”.
If you’ve come here looking for ruminations on the 1994 Brad Pitt Epic “tale of three brothers and their father living in the remote wilderness of 1900s USA and how their lives are affected by nature, history, war, and love.” you are going to be sorely disappointed.

No, this is all about the lessons I learned tonight when my Worst Fear About Running became A Reality.  I fell.  Not some cute little “Oopsie doodle!” mis-step that had me losing a step or two.  No.  This was a full-body, Superman sprawl of a fall.  To my credit although I did go straight, flat-forward down I didn’t actually “face” plant.  It was more of a knee/elbow plant.  I’m fine.  My elbow looks rough, but thankfully Ye Olde Knee shows no signs of being any the worse for the wear.  Thank You Lord for that!

Back to my post title.  I came away from this little experience slightly worse, but far wiser for the wear. Here are my Lessons From The Fall:

  1. It isn’t the fall, it’s the fear of the fall that’ll getcha!
    As previously stated: Falling has been my Worst Fear since I started running last summer.  Okay, maybe my second Worst Fear behind snakes on the trail and finding a dead body.  Technically that dead-body-finding thing doesn’t count since it isn’t technically running related, it’s a lifelong fear with absolutely zero basis in experience.  And totally not germane to the point.

    But the Snakes On The Trail thing? Yeah, that’s real and definitely running related since most of the trails we run on are in an urban park and go through wooded areas that are “in their natural state”.  And really if I do run into a snake on the trail what are the chances that Samuel L. Jackson is going to show up to kill it with the force of his profanity?  See?  This is a real fear.
    Back to falling.  Falling is also a real, running related fear.  I hate falling.  It is: A) Embarrassing; B) Painful; and C) Potentially running career ending.  And tonight it became: D) A Reality.  And in so doing I learned that – in all truth – the fear of a thing actually is worse than the thing happening itself.
    Oh, it wasn’t fun!  And I will do everything in my power to avoid it happening again. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had built it up to being in my brain.
    It was also divine providence that it wasn’t any worse than it was.  I was on a boardwalk rather than pavement; there were no other runners (HCRP notwithstanding) around to witness my humiliation; and most of all there were no cyclists coming up fast behind us because when I Supermanned it I sprawled myself out in fabulous fashion all across the middle of the trail that had no shoulder for anyone to dive off onto to avoid plowing over me.
  2. You never know what you’re going to do until you’ve done it!
    The instant the toe of my right shoe caught on the uneven board I knew I was going down.  It was unavoidable because gravity isn’t just a good idea, it’s The Law.  I managed to land sprawled face down with neither my face nor my forehead making contact with the boards.  Once I was down and realized the falling part was over my first impulse was to hop back up and keep running.  As I was rolling over to a sitting position I realized “Holy Crap!  I just fell!”  Of course my first ‘rational’ thought was to make sure I hadn’t shattered my phone that was tucked in the armband.  (I didn’t.)
    HCRP helped me to my feet and at first, again, I started to turn back in the direction we’d been heading and take off.  HCRP, in his infinite wisdom and good sense, stopped me and suggested I do a ‘damage assessment’ which sounded like a good idea so I did.  that was when I discovered that my left elbow had likely taken much of the brunt and of all the moving parts was going to be the worst for the wear.  We walked along while I caught my breath, determined that all 2,000 parts were in working order, and then we started jogging again.  That’s when it hit me that: A) I freakin’ FELL; and B) I got up and kept on running.  Of course that “I freakin FELL” think came out of my mouth with a slightly more colorful descriptor, but still.  Instead of crying or quitting or crying and quitting I kept going.
    HCRP’s assessment of this reaction was “Well, you’re really a distance runner now, you’re a masochist!”
  3. Adrenalin is over-rated.
    And, in (more of) HCRP’s inimitable and insightful words: Adrenalin can be an asset in a race, but this isn’t exactly the best way to get it.  Personally, I found it to be more hindrance than help since it was the adrenalin rush that had me wanting to pop right back up and keep running.
  4. Timing is, as they say, everything!
    If I were going to have ‘scheduled’ this it couldn’t have come on a better night since I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning to address my ongoing TFL tightness/soreness that just happens with no identifiable cause.
    It doesn’t always happen during a run, or after a run, or even before a run.  It just happens and hurts.
    It isn’t on both sides, just the left.
    It isn’t a pull.  It feels more bruised than any other sensation.  I haven’t pulled anything.
    Yes, I’ve been using my foam roller.  Religiously.  Okay except tonight because I can’t use my left hand to support my weight.
    So I’m going to see a doctor in my PCP’s office who is a runner to get her input and possibly a referral to a physical therapist.  And praying she doesn’t say the dreaded word: R-E-S-T.  I have 40 days til my first Half Marathon and I am finally beginning to see myself doing this thing.  I really don’t want to have that taken away from me.  Again.

In Olympic Watching news, I woke up at 4:50 am this morning to watch The Women’s Marathon and was absolutely dumbfounded by these women!  Somewhere in the instant before my right toe caught and all those lessons started being learned I think in my brain I was one of them for about half a second.
Oscar Pistorius absolutely humbles and inspires me.  I watched him in his semi-final run as I was pecking away at this post and was in tears as he ran with nothing but the pure joy and triumph of being where he was doing what he was doing.
Kirani James doubled those tears when he asked to trade name tags.  That, Ladies and Gentlemen, is what The Olympics are about.

And now it’s late and I’m tired and it’s time for bed.
Thanks for slogging through all this.  I’ll likely read this in the morning and wonder what I was thinking.
But for now, I’m okay with it all.

This is what Vegas does to people

It robs you.
Not of your money.

It robs you of your groove.
And hydration.

No matter how much Gatorade or water you drink while you’re there, no matter how closely you monitor your urine color – really I did this like it was my job – you arrive back home utterly and completely dehydrated.

Okay maybe it wasn’t just Vegas.
Maybe it was Vegas and airline travel.
But you arrive home utterly and completely dehydrated.
And you feel like hammered crap*.
And you miss your mid-length run on Thursday night because you are utterly exhausted from the dehydration.  And the delayed “last flight out of Atlanta to Memphis”.
Either way, you miss that Mid-Length Run that might have told you that your ‘Knother Knee was still a bit bothered from that sharp incline you ran down during your last Long Run – you who are unaccustomed to running down sharp inclines – so that you wouldn’t have come so completely unstrung when you had to cut Saturday’s nine mile run short when The ‘Knother Knee started screaming speaking loudly at the 2.5 mile mark.  Then making the (wise, prudent, forward-thinking) choice to turn around at three miles and walk – yes I said W-A-L-K – back the entire three miles.
And trust that your training for your first half-marathon (in 54 days from today) isn’t completely off track and that you will finish the race.

BUT!
To my credit, I did run while In Vegas and On Vacation.

I ran four miles.
Okay, I ran most of four miles.  I went up and down a lot of stairs.  I used them as my walking intervals.  There were a lot of walking intervals.
And I did not knock over any of the other tourists who were in my way on the sidewalks at 7:30 am.

But I have things to catch up with here.
Like my newest tattoo.  Herbert The Turtle.  And what he means to my running.

And I shall.
After tomorrow’s run as a Coach!

*Steel Magnolias reference.  Forward to 0:33 if you don’t want to watch the entire clip.

I left my title on the trail

Yesterday about halfway through this week’s Long Run (seven miles), which was actually the week’s only run that still went absolutely great, I had a title for this post come to mind and evidently it got left on the trail. (My empty Gu packets did not however get left on the trail.)

I finished the seven miles with zero negative input from Ye Olde Knee. Not a twinge, grimace, whine, or yap. The Secret was Pace.  (Wait!  That was my title!) Plain, pure, and simple! I started and stayed at a consistent 11:45 – 12:00 per mile pace from the beginning.  And intervals. Intervals are also key.  I ran to each half mile marker (about 5:30 – 6:00 minutes) then walked about a minute – long enough to take a sip of water and get my breath, but not long enough to let my heart rate drop completely – then started running again. And it worked like a charm!  So much so that I went ahead and downloaded the un-free ($4.99) Endomondo App so I can customize a 6:1 interval workout that will cue me when to walk and how long a minute is.

Next week we run eight miles and the week after that nine, and so on until Labor Day when we’ll be up to thirteen miles which allows for a taper week starting the weekend before our Half Marathon. And for the first time in a long time I can really see me doing this.

But!
One of my single greatest running accomplishments starts tomorrow evening at 6:00 pm. Tomorrow evening I will be wearing a bright gold singlet with five red letters on the back: C-O-A-C-H as a Volunteer Coach in the Women’s Running Training Program that got me started with this madness on this path.

This time last year I showed up in a gravel parking lot with about 600 other women milling around in the insufferable Mid-July Memphis heat wondering:
A) What on earth I was doing there;
B) What made me think I could run;
C) How far – or shortly – into this I was going to drop dead from a heat-and-being -overweight-and-out-of-shape induced coronary; and finally
D) When someone was going to come along and talk some sense into me instead of saying things like “I admire you for doing this Jules!” “I am so proud of you Jules!” and especially HCRP who kept insisting on saying “You can do this Honey!”
How was I gonna quit in the face of all that belief and pride and encouragement?
But then, caught up in what was quite obviously a protracted endorphin high or the after-effects of near heatstroke, the day after our first Run With Coaches I emailed the Head Coach of the Beginning Runners Group and told her I was already committed to being a Volunteer Coach next year. Which is now this year.
I did this for a couple reasons.
The aforementioned obvious endorphin/heatstroke thing.
Being impressed with the Volunteer Coaches who were giving of their (seasoned, farther-than-I-would-ever-run-ever-in-my-life-runners) time, and genuinely caring about my overweight, middle-aged, out-of-shape self and wanting to (hopefully) be (maybe a little tiny bit) like them someday.
But really mostly to put myself so far Out There with “this running thing” that I had absolutely zero opportunity to back out. Or quit running once the Graduation 5K was “in the books”.
I know me.
I’ve seen me start something with great enthusiasm only to fizzle out because there wasn’t a long-term end game.
So I gave myself one.
To be a Volunteer Coach would mean having more experience than “Oh, yeah, I did this last year but haven’t seen my running shoes since September but I’m sure it will all come back to me.”
Of course I wasn’t counting on this running thing to become everything it has.

Really, it hasn’t “become” anything.
It has simply given focus, direction, and physicality to things that have always been part of me.
The determination to do something no matter how difficult, inconvenient, or sometimes painful it may be.
The drive to keep with something even when I have every valid reason to “just let it go”.
The realization that The Goal I began with wasn’t so much The Goal as it was a stepping stone to The Next Big Thing.
The knowledge and understanding that the race I’m running is mine and that whether I’m first or last crossing the Finish Line isn’t the point. The point is that I kept going from Start to Finish and got there (in the words of Jeff Galloway) “vertical, breathing, and ready to do it again”.
I have learned:
That, like causes and battles, there are a million races out there and I simply can’t run them all. Mostly because there are only so many Registration Fees in our budget, but still . . . you have to pick your races.
That the races you can’t run, you can always be there to help with and cheer others on through.
That pace is everything.
That water is our friend.
That hills – even the steep ones – make the run more interesting and are less painful in the long run.
That it’s all about the shoes and supporting The Girls. And you will pay for cheap shoes one way or another.
That I can do this.
And if I can do this I can do anything!
And if I can do this, and anything, so can you.

See? I was born for this Coach thing!

So. This is how it happens . . .

Step One: One is awarded with an Inspiring Blog Award.
Step Two: One thinks up about a bajillion other things to write about.
Step Three: One’s Writing-About-Running Muse promptly skips town, apparently on some sort of retreat with one’s ability to formulate an intelligent thought.

I’ve been running.
In fact, on Saturday, June 23rd I ran my first 10K.

But about a week before that I had an epiphany.
Or reached a conclusion.
Or set a goal.
Or maybe I just surrendered to the inevitable.
Whatever I did, I also put it Out There. Because I’m me and that’s how I roll.

A couple weeks ago (hold on, let me check Facebook…) Sunday evening, June 17th HCRP and I were enjoying a glass of wine after dinner sitting out back on our deck and discussing our training schedule for the (then) three months leading up to our Half Marathon in September. Somewhere in the conversation I heard the somebody say “Something tells me that as soon as I cross the Finish Line of my first Half I’m going to decide I want to do a Full just once to say I did.” HCRP just looked at me and said “Possibly.”  The Queen of Potential Hyperbole marries The King of Understatement.  These are the conversations that are spawned by that.

And sometime the next day I decided to just give up, give in, and go ahead and set The Goal. Or surrender. See above. So I put it Out There on Facebook. And now that my muse has dragged her sorry self back from wherever it was she’s been the past couple weeks I’m putting it Out There here.

We’re running the USAF Half Marathon this September.
We’re running the St. Jude Half Marathon this December.
We’re running the New Orleans Half Marathon next March.
And then we begin training to run The St. Jude Marathon – FULL MARATHON – in December 2013.
And I say “we” not “I” because HCRP has decided he may as well do the St. Jude Full next year too.  Frankly, I’ve been expecting him to announce his intention to do a Full since he finished his first Half last March.

And I have a feeling that The Point won’t be in actually running the marathon, but in deciding to do it and everything between now and that particular Finish Line.

So there you have it.
I’m going to run a Full Marathon.
Next year.

For tonight I have to get to bed because tomorrow morning’s three miles aren’t gonna run themselves!

I’m not gonna get all Sally Field here . . .

and title this “She likes me, she really likes me!” See? I totally didn’t title the post that!

I’m not gonna lie, I love getting comments.
The best thing about having a Smart Phone – other than being able to track my runs via GPS – is getting my emails right there in the palm of my hand 24 / 7 / 365 so that when a comment is left here on my little corner of the blogosphere I know instantly! And I can come bask in the glow of the love and adoration.

So you can imagine my shock, surprise, and yes I got all choked up when I read this comment not so very long ago:
Hi again, JFT aka Jules (or so I see)! I nominated you for (which means you receive) an Inspiring Blog Award. Your blog is one that immediately caught my attention and still holds it. I love your insights into the practice of running and the runner’s mind. I’ve provided a link on my blog to yours. Follow the rather flexible rules of the award (outlined on my blog) if you will. In any case, this gave me the opportunity to let you know of my continued support of your blog!
First that I was nominated at all, but also that I was nominated by a blogger who is what I consider A Real Blogger.

There are, of course, responsibilities that incumbent upon the recipient of such an honor. The rules of this award state (according to Holly’s exhaustive rules and possible rewrites) that I must:
1) Nominate fellow bloggers for this award and state why;
2) Give seven personal revelations about myself that would not ordinarily appear on my blog; and
3) publicly thank my nominator (I am still blown away, seriously), providing a link to that blog.  THANK YOU HOLLY!!!

First up my nominees for The Inspiring Blog Award

Pot of Manna is, in addition to being a very dear friend of mine, a blog written about faith from the perspective of someone who has had every reason to abandon hers but hasn’t. The genuine kindness and empathy of having had one’s life not necessarily be what was ‘planned’ shows through in every word. The never-ending hope and faith that sometimes comes naturally, but is also sometimes hard-fought is a a beacon to me when I need it most.

Run. Dog. Cat. Me. is a blog about running. And a dog. And a cat. And Me. Not ME “Me”. It’s about Terri Lee the “Me” of the blog title. Terri Lee is one of the people responsible for the Women’s Running Training Program that is responsible for my presence here in my little corner of The World Wide Web. Terri Lee is smart, funny, open, occasionally downright heartbreaking, and all of it is 100% Real. Just like Me. Her “Me”, not me “Me”.

rebuildingholly – my generous benefactor – is another of those Just Flat-Out Real bloggers. And that’s what makes her inspiring. I also have a huge amount of admiration for the results she got from the 5K she was part of putting together this year. 1,000+ participants and $25,000 raised?! Totally my hero! And. You have to ask her about The Poo Bag. (Sorry for the edit of the title Holly, but I can’t say “s**t” in my blog because my mom might actually be reading and then I’d have one in a tree of my own! I knew you’d understand.

Minimalist Living is just plain admirable for the way he lives his life.
HCRP and I occasionally joke about divesting ourselves of all the extraneous crap in our lives and moving into an RV to “simplify our lives”. And I’ve started to say “Here honey, read this blog and we’re going to start divesting of stuff!” In fact I may have actually uttered the words. But at the moment I am still too attached to the security of my ‘stuff’ despite the discomfort being weighed down by it all sometimes brings. Which is probably why this blog inspires me so much. And no, I don’t comment often, because there are in fact limits to even my hypocrisy and this is one of them.

DR RACHEL RUNS is:
A doctor which means she survived med school.
She lives, and therefore runs, in New England. In Winter. That’s just craziness right there. Inspiring and admirable craziness, but craziness nonetheless.
She is a Pace Per Mile Reporter. That requires some serious running and some serious blogging about running.
And she’s a doctor.

365 Days of Pure Vegetarian © I love cooking and I am a vegetarian (lacto-ovo-pescatarian variety) so what could be better than a vegetarian blog?
I’ll tell you what!
A vegetarian cooking blog that posts absolutely visually stunning pictures of food!
Even if you never make the recipes the images alone are a feast for the eyes.

And finally . . .
Brain Tomahawk is another blogger who I am honored to say is also a personal friend. He’s smart, funny, makes up some of the best ever made-up words, and our friendship disproves the myth that Yankees (he’s an actual New York City Yankee, not just someone who lives north of Nashville) and Southerners can’t get along. We have singlehandedly transcended The Mason Dixon Line.
And he cooks.
And loves cats.

Seven Random Facts
I am allergic to oatmeal, it breaks me out in hives. Yet it is one of my favorite foods. There are times when I absolutely crave it. To the point that I’ll eat an oatmeal raisin cookie (maybe six) with a Benadryl chaser and just nap through the hives.

I have no middle name. None. Never have had. It’s not like I had one and left it somewhere and it never showed up in the Lost and Found. I just don’t have one. My mother once offered to pay to legally change my name to add one, but I couldn’t think of one I liked to go with Julianne.

Artificial sweeteners make me violently ill. Even if I don’t know they’re an ingredient in something I end up nauseous and develop a near-migraine level piercing headache. I consider myself akin to a canary in a coal mine with them since I am firmly convinced they are one of the worst things we can put into our bodies. I refer to them as “rat poison”.

If I tell you “I have no opinion” or “I don’t care” I have no opinion and I don’t care. I’m not just dodging the question. When I do have an opinion or care one way or the other about something you’ll know. (See above for a perfect example.)

I have a very good nose for wine. This was HCRP’s contribution to this list when I asked him for another random fact about me.  I suppose it’s no coincidence that one of my favorite running headbands says “Will Run for WINE”.

I love NCAA Football! I am a Nebraska Cornhusker Fan.
I am not particularly thrilled with all this conference hopping that’s going on and the current configuration of The Big Twelve really having ten teams and The Big Ten really having twelve teams is like one of those “If a man gets on a train in Cleveland that’s traveling 500 mph and Mary has eleven apples then what does purple smell like?” math word problems to me.

Which leads us to the final random point about me that woudn’t otherwise be revealed on this blog:
I suck at math. Really, I do. I can do simple, single digit addition and subtraction in my head but past that if there isn’t a Schoolhouse Rock ditty to help me remember it – I’m toast.

So.
There you have it.

Pick Your Own Title

I started writing this late Saturday night after we got home from the 5K we ran.

Blame Tonia
Or
Why Run? / Why Running?
Or
Julianne, you think too much
Or (my personal favorite)
What’s Run Got To Do With It?

I mostly like that last one because this happens to be one of my absolute, all-time favorite songs ever.
But.
I digress. (Don’t play like that, you were warned long ago.)

Tonight I ran in my first 5K Race since December before The Decline and Fall of Ye Olde Knee which has seen me sitting out two 5Ks and one Half-Marathon. My personal performance and results of tonight’s race are (for purposes of this post) inconsequential; however, I promise a complete synopsis – and pictures – at a later date.

I also owe (really, seriously, I quite happily Owe this one) an entry as a result of having been nominated for an Inspiring Blog Award. I’m still fully digesting that one, as well as coming up with the requisite “seven personal revelations about myself that would not ordinarily appear on my blog” that actually gives me a fair amount of leeway given that I pretty much stay focued on my (arguably questionable and possibly insane) thoughts on and during runs. I mean there’s that Obscure Food Allergy, The Near Phobia, and Food Hoarding thing.
Again with the digressing.
There really is no stopping me.

Wait, why am I writing again?
Scrolls up . . .
Inspiring Blog . . .
First 5K in six months . . .
Tina Turner’s hit machine Private Dancer album . . . (I don’t link to everything – do your own Googling!)
Oh!
I remember.

So tonight after the 5K HCRP and I get home and he proceeds to ice his knotted up calf muscle (again, another post for another time), following the icing with a soak in the tub with epsom salts to ease the pain and tightness. As he was finishing, I decided a soak wouldn’t hurt me and so I settled into my own soak and started reading my latest Kindle Borrow: Amby Burfoot‘s “The Runner’s Guide to The Meaning of Life” (I generally link to Amazon.com for books, but in this case you can get an autographed copy direct from the author and I would much rather promote that option.) This book was recommended to me by a dear friend and fellow runner who also happens to be one of my personal Running Mentors, the above-mentioned “Tonia” you can blame for this post.

As I was reading I came across the following: “Runners don’t quit. We fade, we ‘hit the wall’, we’re sometimes reduced to a walk. But we keep on.” and I was stopped in my reading tracks.
Since I took up, and got hooked on, running right about ten months ago I have been asked no small number of variations of the question “Why running?”. I started to follow that with several “Or” alternative takes on the stated question; but really they all come down to the same thing – whether the question had to do with my choice of this particular sport, my choosing a sport at all given that I have never been especially athletically inclined, my decision to embrace athleticism at this particular age (I was 46 when I started – I’m 47 now because really, that is so very much older and wiser), or whatever the mechanics of the question – it always comes down to “Why running?!” And until tonight my answer depended on how out of the blue the inquiry happened to have hit me.

The truth is there were several reasons I began the running training program I did a little over a year ago that started this whole little odyssey.

I wanted to learn to enjoy running.
Because my husband did.
Because I always envied runners I would see out there looking all zen and In The Zone.
But mostly because when I saw What Women Want and it got to the faux Nike ad I bawled like I did when ET died PLUS during the part after Shelby’s funeral in Steel Magnolias PLUS when Johnny Castle rescued Baby from The Corner all rolled into one.  Yeah, it was THAT kind of cry!

It was something I had done (by force) and failed miserably at (in gym class) and was (as we Southerners are wont to say) deadset and bygod determined to finally do and do well. Or at least do right. At least once.

And why lie
I wanted to lose weight
Yeah, I’ll admit it, I was seeking The Happy Side Effect. I think the consequence of that is that coming slower than I’d have liked and honestly becoming less and less The Point all the time. The Numbers I’m chasing now are on timing clocks more often than my bathroom scale.

But it was mostly that What Women Want faux Nike ad thing. At first.

Tonight when I read the quote from Amby Burfoot it suddenly came to me that running is the only sport that could ever have been a fit for me. Because I may hit walls, I may slow to a walk, but I never quit. And that’s what I love most about running. And why I love The Road.