Return from Running Retirement

I hate to run. If you knew me in college, you know that this is a true statement. Day after day of softball practice being told where to run, how far, and how fast will do that to you. In fact, during my time as a college athlete, I longed for the day when there would be no more early morning wake-ups, no more coaches hollering at me to "Bend your knees and get lower!" or "Come on Sarah, pick it up!" After my last 6am workout, I wore a homemade t-shirt that said "There are a lot of things I will miss, but not suicides."

Suicides, dear friends, are my worst enemy. Mortal enemy. If you're unfamiliar with the term, a suicide is a running drill in which the person about to be tortured stands on one end of the basketball court. When the torturer (coach) blows their whistle, you sprint to the first free throw line. Then you run back to where you began. Then you turn around and sprint to half court. Then you run back. Then you run to the free throw line on the other side of the court. Then you run back. Then you run to the other end of the court and THEN when your lungs are on fire and your legs feel like they're going to give out, you have to sprint back to the starting point. My heart would drop into the pit of my stomach whenever we would run suicides. If you ever need me to do anything and I won't, you can threaten me with running a "suey" and I will probably change my mind and help you out.

So when I hung up my cleats and glove for good, unfortunately, I also hung up my will to do anything that challenged me athletically. Maybe it was laziness, maybe it was the fact that I was newly married. When you're newly married, you have all these new kitchen toys and so I can admit that I made my fair share of cookies, bars, and brownies. Regularly. Anyway, it's sort of funny now to say that I was actually surprised when my pants started getting tighter. And my muffin top & fupa were growing at an alarming rate. I realized that I had to do something, because going to the gym on base was a lot cheaper than buying a new wardrobe.

I got this crazy idea that I was going to run in a half marathon, and my relationship with running was rekindled. Actually, one of my friends had told me that it was always a dream of hers to run in a half, and there was one in Nashville in April, and why don't we do it together? Without knowing what I was doing, I said yes and the training began. Soon my friend and I were joined by two other ladies, and we were training daily. Running became our lives. We talked about it in the car. We planned runs together. We talked about it on the phone. I was surprised to admit that I was enjoying myself as much as I did. In Nashville, I did much better than I thought I would: 2 hours, 39 minutes, & 21 seconds was my official finish time. As I crossed the finish line holding hands with the crazy friend who had convinced me to run, I felt a real sense of accomplishment. I thought, "I can do this! This can be my thing!"

Well, then I moved. To Alabama. In the middle of summer. It was hot and humid and awful at 5 AM and reached 120 degrees by noon. There was no way to run and be comfortable and not get heat stroke in that type of environment. And I don't do treadmills. Too boring. So, the running shoes got hung up...again. And the pants got tight...again. I tried Spinning, and it was enjoyable. But I missed running, and I couldn't believe what my brain was thinking when I thought it for the first time. I guess running gives me a goal, something to work for. It is actually quite amazing to me that I can now say that I enjoy being pushed. But I'm still not running any more stinking suicides.

While in Illinois, I have been doing the P90X workout program. I'm enjoying it, and it's something to do when there's a foot of snow and freezing winds outside. And P90X is nice, because it is a goal; something to shoot for. 90 kick-butt workouts in 90 days. That's my goal, for now. But when I'm done with the 90 days, I need a new goal, something to push me to continue on this path. There are a few race possibilities in Albuquerque and some in Colorado, so this excites me. Not to mention, my chocolate-chip-nosed puppy dog makes the best running buddy.

I never thought I'd say this, but I love running.