Courage

I don't remember much about her. All I know is that she was an overweight adult who had decided to join the advanced ballet class with a bunch of teenage girls. I also remember how horrible we were to her. How we whispered and laughed.

She was probably younger than I am now, but at the time she seemed so old. And oh, my God, why do they even make leotards that big?

But now I recognize her courage; the strength to show up, week after week. The love of the ballet drove her to surrender herself, not only to her own physical limitations, but to our taunting as well.

I wish I could go back in time and be nice to her. I also wish I could find her today, and tell her that across twenty-ish years and unknown miles, she has inspired me. Wherever she is, I hope she is still dancing.

That's my man.

He did the sweetest thing today. He drove me out to the end of a country road, told me to get out, reset the trip odometer, and drove off.

It was that third thing- clocking the mileage home- that really tells me I'm loved.

I didn't actually want to do a run today, but it worked out pretty well. I did 8.3 miles at a 10:41 average pace. The sun was hot, but the air was early-spring crisp. I saw a deer, a few rabbits, and a bazillion birds (and a few dogs). I even got to pee outside. If my darling hubby didn't know me so well I would have talked myself out of experiencing today's run.

So, thank you, sweetie. I love you!

I'm going to Norway!

Norway Spring Classic

It is considered THE first race of the season for my area. I wanted to go last year, but was still afraid of the 5k distance. This year I'll be doing the 10k.

One interesting note is that I can enter as a "Clydesdale". I can't spell it (and neither can Blogger's spell check), but I can enter it. Simply means I'm heavier than your typical female runner.

There I am, Mama Clydesdale.

I like clydesdales. They make me think of beer, and beer is kissing cousins of cheap wine, my drink of choice. And so, I'm happy, even though I'm basically identifying myself as a plus-size female.

The last few weeks I've been running every other day, doing whatever I feel like that particular day. Mostly tempo runs of three to five miles, with longer runs about once every eight days. I'm going to jump in to an intermediate 10k training plan for the next two weeks and then see what happens. I'm not going for gold, here. I'm just wanting to set the bar for this year. There's still plenty of time for serious training and racing.

"Did you have a good day?"

answer: "I had a great day today!"
means "I got in a great workout today, and a bunch of other stuff got done, too!"

answer: "It was a pretty good day."
means "My day actually went to heck, but I got a workout in."

answer: "Today was alright."
means "I blew off my workout, and I wasn't feeling guilty for it until just now when it is way too late."

answer: "Today was a waste."
means "I had to participate in real life rather than going for a run and now I'm feeling sorry for myself."

There. Now you know.

Identify Yourself

"Oh, are you a runner?"

"Um... I guess. Yep. I dunno."

For whatever reason the phrase "wannabe" has negative connotations for me. Like when we were in high school and somebody was called a "wannabe" it was never meant in a flattering manner. But it is an apt description for one who aspires to something, but isn't quite there yet.

Guess which one is the Wannabe.

I have now owned four pairs of running shoes (including one pair returned and one pair ordered but not yet received). I have more pairs of exercise pants than jeans. I'm running about 20 miles a week; that's not a lot, but it is enough to prove my commitment, I think. I haven't lost any blackened toenails yet, but I think that's mainly because I figured out early on I need to wear men's socks (they're larger). And I sure know more about my feet than ever before, right down to my Morton's Toe.

And yet, somehow, I just don't quite identify myself as a Runner. Not publicly, at least. I feel like I haven't earned it.

What will that take?

I'm going nuts without any races on my calendar. One day I'm ready to register for a marathon, the next day I think I must be crazy to even consider it. The Route 66 Marathon in Tulsa, OK gives special finisher's medals for first-timers. (And an extra trinket for visiting The Center of the Universe. I've been there!) But, ugh, I'd have to GET THERE first. And then actually finish.

Cuh-RAZY.

So, for now, I'm happy with calling myself a "wannabe" instead of a runner. I expect that to change, though.

Gone with the Schwinn

Hubby insisted on getting me a bike, and I am so glad he did! We took a great ride out to just past Rousseau Bar and back. There are so many things to love about bike riding. First of all, it is easier than running. When you're running, if you stop moving your legs, you stop moving forward. Not so with biking. It is a built-in interval workout- you have to work hard up the hills, but then you get to coast down. I'm not up to a 15-mile run yet, but that distance on a bike was really enjoyable. Riding with my Sweetie is the best!

(gratuitous baby picture:)

(Squee!)

I just can't get over how wonderful the weather has been. We're expecting highs in the 50's and 60's all week with not a snow day in sight. Awesome! At this rate, I'll be working on my tan in no time!

Mirror, Mirror

In my imagination I'm one of those cute athletes who grace the cover of Runner's Magazine.

My outfit is trendy and coordinated, from my "26.2" necklace charm to my size 5 shoes. I run with a gorgeous smile on my made up face, light sweat adding beautiful sheen to a perfect tan. The only thing bouncing is my adorable (blonde) ponytail.

Reality check! No single piece of my gear matches any other piece, and my shoes are twice the size of the average female's. I sweat like a swine and am pale as a poltergeist. And after eight babies, I'd be hard pressed to find a part, portion or organ that isn't bouncing.

I appreciate my body for what it has done, and what it may someday be capable of doing. It's not "poor body image" to occasionally wish you were smaller, younger, faster, or stronger. Part of being an athlete (even as a hobby) is the desire for improvement.

Just random thoughts from my run today.