Good Morning all!
Sorry for the heavy post yesterday. It was just something that I felt like I needed to get off my chest for my own healing.
But I promise I’m back today with something much more lighthearted and fun!
Yesterday ended up being a super busy day for me at work. Minus the very necessary lunch break at our local China buffet (creative name, right?), I pretty much worked without looking up until it was 5pm. Not too shabby for a Monday, if I do say so myself.
I have to admit that sushi and coffee are going to be the two things that I am seriously going to miss whenever I end up preggers. Which is so not happening anytime soon, thankyouverymuch! I like my sushi too much for that!
Our evening plans got a little bit derailed when I received a plea from my neighbor to help put up her Christmas lights, because her mom and grandma were coming in to surprise the kids late tonight. So Chris and I to the rescue!
Well, let’s be real here. Chris really to the recuse.
I just made sure the small children didn’t fall out the window.
She repaid us in taquitos and spinach dip. I think it was a fair barter, don’t you?
I basically spent the rest of the night reading Matched, which is actually pretty good. A LITTLE Twilight-ish, but maybe because that’s because I just read Divergent which is more Hunger Games and less lovey vampires.
But I want to talk about something else this morning, as I promised I would yesterday.
When I started “running” a few years ago, it was exactly that: “running”. I’d trudge along for a mile or MAYBE two, and then be exhausted and move on. My original goal way back in April of 2010, was just to finish our annual 3.2 for 32 race at Tech. 3.2 miles seemed like forever.
And then I just kept running. One mile became two. Two became three. I got several 5Ks under my belt, including my PR at the Wicked Bottom 5K last May and my really horrible Turkey Trot this past Thanksgiving. Then my mom convinced us to do this half marathon.
But the funny thing is, I still don’t think of myself as a “runner”.
Chris and I were at VA Runner last week picking up some new running shoes (which I am very patiently trying to wait until after this half to use…), and we were chatting with one of the staff about compression sleeves. He mentioned how he used them a lot on his 6-8 mile runs. My first thought? WHOA… that’s a lot of miles, I could never do that!
But wait. I just did. Chris and I ran 6 a few weeks ago, and did 8 this past weekend. So why don’t I put myself in that category? Why can’t I manage to call myself a runner without feeling the need to use the quotation marks?
Because I AM a runner. No qualifiers about it. Am I the fastest? Do I run marathons on the weekends? Can I wake up and say “I feel like running 15 miles this morning”? No.
But can I trudge along like the rest of the runners out there? Can I push through the side cramps and the mental games and the cold weather to get a run in?
Yes. Because I’m a runner too.
So tell me: Have you ever felt this way before? Like a “runner” instead of a runner?