Flashback Friday: That Time I Could Run

So when I wrote this I made it seem like I'm a runner. Or at least that I run regularly. Or at least that I am capable of running.

I may have exaggerated a bit.

I have a love/hate relationship with running. It started when I joined the cross country team in middle school in order to be cool. I was never very good at it. It didn't make me cool either.

Regardless, I'm an "as-needed" exerciser, so when I start to feel a little pudgy, I turn to my old stand-by, running. And for a bit, I lace up my running shoes and proceed to sweat, huff and puff, feel like vomiting, and manipulate myself with thoughts like, "I'll try to run the whole time today. Okay, half-way. Alright, just to that next street. Maybe that stop sign. I'll alternate running and walking."

This will go on for awhile until mission accomplished and then my running shorts become pajama shorts again.

Except for this one time when the mission was to run a 5K. My friend that is forever convincing me to do things "suggested" we run one. So we did. And it was great. And I have a picture to prove I really did it.

That's me, in the back

I guess I didn't exaggerate too much when I suggested that I was capable of running. Because I am was. Five years ago.

I even finished it. Without walking. Seriously.

So this week I've been using my early morning time to run again. Which really means that I'm making a loop around a park, running one stretch, walking the next, and then trying to convince myself to run the next stretch again.

And I'm on a roll because I've done this twice this week. BAM! Take that, tight-fitting pants that I couldn't wear to church last week.