When I moved to Nashville, I had two goals: to play at the Bluebird Café, and to run a half-marathon. Let me say it again: SQUEEEEEEE! But the running thing is still… how should I say… in process.
I hate to run. The other night, I tried to go running, but called it quits after a mile and a half. I am not “Chariots of Fire” material; however, should they ever make a movie called “Lazy Lass,” I will be the leading lady. I think that God created me with the spiritual gift of lying in bed watching “Oprah” and drinking wine – it’s in my genes. Every ounce of energy that I expend is a battle – one that I am willing to fight, but not something that comes easily.
But my friend Hunter tells me that anyone can be a runner.
A few weeks ago, I heard about a running group that meets on Wednesday evenings in East Nashville, and runs a 3-4 mile route. That’s farther than I’m used to running, but thinking that I might find more motivation by joining a pack of people than doing it on my own, I showed up last night.
The route was 4.32 miles. I need to say it: GOOD LORD. I had never run that far in my life. But when I looked at the clock, and then did the math, I realized that I was going to HAVE to run the entire thing – no walking, no resting – because I had the Handy Graham coming over at 7:30. And if I was going to make it home in time, I had to RUN.
As one who doesn’t have many opportunities to “achieve” or “accomplish” in her everyday work-life, it was a HUGE satisfaction to run, and finish, and do something that I didn’t think I could do. I ran – I ran slowly, but I ran. I was home in time. And I felt proud.
By the way, if you live in Nashville, hire Handy Graham. He’s great. AND, he was voted “Best Handyman” in the Nashville Scene – see? I know. I have impressive friends.