After my half-marathon back in April, I quit running cold turkey. I don’t like to run when it’s hot outside, and I focused more on hiking and mountain climbing this summer. Because I’ve been insanely active, I didn’t think that it would be that hard to get back into running this fall.
Oh, my friends.
A few weeks ago, I decided to give the treadmill a go. I ran one ugly mile. When I stopped running, my butt kept moving.
Then, someone who will not be named told me that she didn’t think I could fit into the bridesmaid dress I ordered for Mel’s wedding.
Bad bad bad.
But AP’s reverse psychology has kicked in, and as of last night, I’m back up to 3 miles. You’d have thought I’d won the Olympics. Come Halloween, I’ll be up to 5. And after tomorrow night when I meet with a Viking of a trainer man named Gunnar, I will be back on my way to that ever elusive runner’s booty – the one that I never get, no matter how far I run, but always think MIGHT happen at some point.
For me, running helps ward off depression, insomnia, and existential crises. It’s a good and healthy thing for me to do. I haven’t weighed myself since March of 2009 – which, I might add, is more liberating than terrifying, even though I still have my terrified moments – and while I have a hunch that running actually makes me weigh more, if I don’t ever see that number, it doesn’t even matter. I feel better. I look better. I think better. I sleep better.
In short, I’m back on the path to my better self – the one with happier thoughts and a smaller booty. I know: you’ll hardly recognize me.