I have always been a runner. I would chase boys in Elementary school, loved running the mile in middle school, and continued running at the gym or practice fields through college. In San Diego, I found the pier, and on the East Coast, the burbs. As strange as it sounds, running has always made me feel good. Relaxed.
My college dance Director used to say,
"Beauty is only God given until you are 25. Then, you have to work at it." I thought of that woman yesterday when I put on a pair of my favorite lounge shorts...and they were snug. Ahem, lounge shorts aren't supposed to be snug. So, I looked to my pool of facebook friends for comfort, only to find updates from friends leaving for their morning jog, signing up for 5Ks, and participating in marathons. Where are you when I need you my breakfast burrito eating friends?
So, last night, I decided to squeeze on my sports bra, dust off my sneakers, and head out. Oh. My. Word. I must have been enjoying the double stuff for way too long because I felt parts of me move that shouldn't. Let's just say it was more than my boobs that needed support, dear friends.
Still, I trucked on. I tried to find inspiration in the evening lightening bugs, but even they seemed to be mocking me. Flying around with such ease and delicacy. Grrr. If that wasn't enough to get me going, a bunny ran out from under the bushes and raced by as if playing an evil game of tortoise and the hare. Damn it if that didn't happen twice!
But, I did it. I ran until my chest burned and my side ached. I even think my eyebrows were sweating. I would have taken a picture to prove my victory, but this entry is not supposed to be scary.
This morning, I woke up to a few snaps in unexpecting places and found myself bracing against the stair rail...with two hands...when going up...and down. It definitely doesn't feel as "good and relaxing" today as I remember. But, we all know how the tortoise and the hare story ends, and I will be damned if those little bunnies get the best of me. Crack.
Ouch. Snap.
Doh.
Carry on.