This past week has been fantastic! I can’t impress upon you how great this week was and how good I feel. It’s all because . . . I didn’t run. Nope, not even once since the 5K last week.
I feel great—my knees bend and move like they should, no cracking and popping, no burning heat, I don’t smell like sweat, and best of all . . . NO PAINFUL SPORTS BRA!! Yippee!! What a week. I was so happy, happier than I have felt in a long time.
But all good things must come to an end. I have to run. I hate it. But I have to do it. There is no getting around it “they say” (ya, well, I found one . . . should this running thing not improve by the end of May, my really cute doctor told me he would write me, exact quote here, “a really awesome note.” Plan A: learn to run and not die, and if that doesn’t happen, then Plan B, which from this point forward will be known as: “The Escape Plan,” I will carry around in the back of my mind as a possibility).
Okay, my asthma medication has been increased—this should improve my lung capacity significantly—and the weather looks promising tomorrow. So, I will strap on my stretchy pants and hit the road. I don’t want to, but I need to.
13.1 miles beckons to me. Frightens me. And it is that fear that makes me do it. The Ragnar is approaching fast—too fast for my liking actually—I must train.
Goodbye my lovely week of leisure. Hello week of . . . sorry, I can’t think of a kind word here and everything that comes to mind should best not be written.
I feel great—my knees bend and move like they should, no cracking and popping, no burning heat, I don’t smell like sweat, and best of all . . . NO PAINFUL SPORTS BRA!! Yippee!! What a week. I was so happy, happier than I have felt in a long time.
But all good things must come to an end. I have to run. I hate it. But I have to do it. There is no getting around it “they say” (ya, well, I found one . . . should this running thing not improve by the end of May, my really cute doctor told me he would write me, exact quote here, “a really awesome note.” Plan A: learn to run and not die, and if that doesn’t happen, then Plan B, which from this point forward will be known as: “The Escape Plan,” I will carry around in the back of my mind as a possibility).
Okay, my asthma medication has been increased—this should improve my lung capacity significantly—and the weather looks promising tomorrow. So, I will strap on my stretchy pants and hit the road. I don’t want to, but I need to.
13.1 miles beckons to me. Frightens me. And it is that fear that makes me do it. The Ragnar is approaching fast—too fast for my liking actually—I must train.
Goodbye my lovely week of leisure. Hello week of . . . sorry, I can’t think of a kind word here and everything that comes to mind should best not be written.
