why I run
I'm not a small girl.
Never have been. Well scratch that. I yo-yo.
But something I've never been is a runner. But I try. I'm like the little engine that could. But again, not little.
So I tried my hand at a half marathon to honor a friend. I was slow. But I liked it. And you know what.
Running is one of those things I believe you have to be absolutely crazy to do. Seriously. I love the complexities it. While I don't need any fancy equipment and don't need to be intelligent enough to know strategies, the only competitor I have - truly - is myself. Today, I shaved a minute and 13 seconds off my time from my normal running route. When I got home, I was a hot mess. Sweat dripping from every a bodily orifice. But I was proud. I wanted everyone to see me.
When I pass other runners along my route, they wave or say a friendly "hello." Ironic, because any other time, I'm the chubby-working-Mom-who-never-attends-PTA. But on the road, I'm one of them. They nod as if it's some secret club, like we know something others don't. The camaraderie is like nothing I've ever experienced. As a friend once told me, no one asks what my time was at the half. They just applaud that I crossed the finish.
Plus runners know how to party. At the start and the finish lines, there's always music. And I like to find the races with alcohol. Seriously.
I'm getting faster. I'm [trying] to get smaller. But yes, I am a runner.