|My running partner never gets tired. Ever.|
It was a couple days after Thanksgiving that I realized I really needed to start working out again or I'd have to switch back to my fat jeans. So I very grudgingly put in that first Jillian Michaels DVD when Elizabeth was taking her nap. And almost cried the next morning when I tried getting out of bed.
Then I thought I'd try taking up running again. I've never been much of a runner. In middle school and high school I discovered that I was abysmally, embarrassingly, getting-lapped-multiple-times-during-our-mandatory-mile-runs slow, and that generally turned me off to the sport.
|Used to try and wear the border collie out on|
the treadmill. Didn't work.
So when I picked it up at the start of December, I didn't really expect much. I hoped it would give me just enough sense of accomplishment that would keep me from sinking into a pit of winter despair. So I was pleasantly surprised at just how much enjoyment I found from my runs.
After the first week of getting back into the swing of it, I actually began looking forward to my runs. In addition to the physical my-jeans-fit-better-all-ready benefits, running gives me a chance to recharge my batteries. It gives me a much needed mommy-break, and helps me maintain my patience with both Lizzie and Andrew.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still slower than a herd of turtles, but I'm discovering that I can go longer distances at my slower pace without getting tired. I'm not competing with anyone except myself, so there's no pressure to beat the cross-country kids. And it feels good.