We ate pasta and shrimp on Saturday night.
We collected water and Gu and shoes and went to bed early.
We woke up at 5:15 on Sunday.
We loaded the jogging stroller in the car and bundled the baby up against the (very temporary) early morning chill. I tucked $5 into my shoe for an after run reward.
I did not run fast. I didn't break any records, mine included. I didn't even beat Mr. E and he was pushing a baby.
But I did it. I ran eight miles. Of course because I am a natural and constant self deprecater I was focused on how incredibly slow I was running and how some things were jiggling more than they used to and how I am 20 pounds heavier than the last time I trained for a run and then happened to look up and I noticed my shadow next to me, just bounding along. And all of a sudden I was beaming and I felt proud.
I am very very proud of myself. So never mind the rest of it. I ran eight miles!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
I wish I could run and like it, but I can't and don't... so you can do all of it for me! Go girl!!!!
You guys rock. I ran seven on Saturday and it was one of those good runs that made me say, "I'm going to kick butt in the half marathon." No, scratch that- WE are going to kick butt. Six more weeks!!
shit. be proud! be very proud...
While I sheepishly eat this cupcake.
Hell yeah, eight miles is awesome! I ran four miles on Sunday and it's the farthest I've ever run in my life. Someday I hope to get up to eight too!
You GO GIRL. Eight miles is awesome and absolutely somthing to be proud of. I feel like I could move a mountain after four. And did I read correctly that you did it first thing in the morning? Double good for you. Doesn't that feel awesome? To be done for the day?
Post a Comment