I've always hated running. In high school I ran the mile and 2 mile and hated every single second of it. In fact, I remember qualifying for and running in the regional meet for the 2 mile and being so bad that my father was in the stands yelling, "If you'll just finish, I'll buy you an ice cream cone!" It worked. I finished but I swore I would never run unless I had to, like when chasing after a 2 year old running toward the front door in a supermarket. Boy, I can bolt then.
But that's always been about it.
So, for the past few weeks, I've begun running and I am in shock at how far I can now go without throwing up. Granted, I have to start out at a snail's pace to give my knees and ankle time to adjust (i.e., stop killing me) but I can plumb run again! My muscles hurt like crazy and I have to literally make myself climb stairs and not cry like a baby, but I'm
running, er, well, jogging and it feels great!
And to motivate/reward myself since Dad's not here to do it:
Skinny Cow. (Oh. My. Gosh)
1 comment:
oh for the love of the skinny cows.....
L
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