Even a Pirate Can't Stop Me

I am a runner.

I run at 6:30am.

Last night, when I told Hubby this bit of news, exactly like that, he laughed.

"Really, you have the wrong tense.  If you've only gone out one morning, you must say, 'I ran at 6:30 today.'  It's more accurate."

When I told the kids, they laughed, too.

"Really?" they asked.

Yes, really.

Even my mom was doubtful.

I know.  It's shocking.  Gotta say, though, it doesn't shock anyone more than it does my own body.

The 7.5 minute run went something like this:

When you read this, use a piraty-type accent.  For some reason, that's what my brain sounds like, being the captain of the ship and all.

Brain:  Blimey!  She's doing physical activity.  Is there another pig on the loose?  No?  What in tarnation is she doing?

OK, so maybe it's a pirate/Yosemite Sam combo.

Brain:  Muscles!  Smartly there!  Git to work!

Me:  Oh, silly brain, I was a college athlete.  I know the muscles won't hurt for long.  I just need to push through.  Weak move, Brain.  Weak.

Brain:  Skin, start itchin'!

Me:  Why, Brain?  Why have you always done this to me?  It's so annoying.  Too bad for you, I mastered the art of scratching my thighs while still running back in high school.  Yes, it's silly looking, but it doesn't stop me.

Brain:  Arg!  She still be runnin'!  I hates runnin'!  Lungs!  Now!

Me:  Finally, you picked something that makes me rethink this whole running thing.  You know, I'm not a fan of it either.

Brain:  We got 'er, me hearties!  Give 'er everythin' ya got!  ANKLE!!!!

Me:  Well played, Brain.  Well.  played.  Lucky for you, I planned on stopping now anyway.

You are probably wondering why I went for a run in the first place.   It's a valid question, seeing as how I always say running is so bad for you.

Monday night, we were at the soccer fields for the U10 end of year party.  As we were about to eat, I realized we left the picnic blankets in the car.  I ran the 100 yards to the car to retrieve them.    Ya'll, I was wiped when I got to that car.  I started to run back with the blankets, but I couldn't do it.

Then and there, I decided to do something about it, but in one of those I don't really mean it kinda ways.  On Tuesday morning, as Hubby left for work at 6:20 and I lied layed lain  stayed in bed, I thought, "No, I really don't want to run."

I can't go back to sleep once awoken, so I got up.  And that's when it hit me.  My legs were sore.  MY LEGS WERE ACTUALLY SORE FROM RUNNING A HUNDRED YARDS!!

It's official.  I am horribly out of shape.

I'd seen it coming.  Since the (is it?) Lupus diagnosis, I've been careful not to do too much, always afraid that I will do too much and not be able to make it through the day.  Yeah.  I went overboard. 

So, it was the sore legs that put me over the edge.  I immediately donned my running clothes (left over from years ago) and hit the driveway.

Yes, I stuck to the driveway.  I had a house full of kids who had no idea I was going to be leaving the house.  I simply went down, up, down 3/4, and up.  I ran less than a mile.  But I ran!  And I ran again today, going even farther.  Down, up, down, up, down 1/2, and walk back up.  (Up is a hill!)

Hubby called at 7:30 this morning.  I got on his case about waking up the entire family.  And I asked, "What made you think I'd actually be up this early?"

He responded with a laugh, "I figured you'd just be getting back from your run."  He didn't think I'd do it.

But I did.  Aaaand got a shower in before he called.

So, yes.

I am a runner.

I run at 6:30am.

Have a lovely day!