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.
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
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.
I am a runner.
I run at 6:30am.
Have a lovely day!