Remember when you were little...when someone pushed you on the swing until you went so far up into the sky felt as though you were soaring? Then, on the way back down, it felt like your stomach was going to shoot out through your face?
I still need a push sometimes. A thrill, a goal, a reward. So...here I sit, with sore calves, thighs, and cheeks, and it might just be the death of me.
I have never been a "runner". I was good at running across the road to my cousin's house, or even down the road a bit to my Grandparent's house. In grade school,(before my thighs started touching), I probably was a fast little squirt, but honestly, I don't remember much from that time. Maybe its because I ran right into one of my cousins, at full speed...I may have knocked a screw loose.
Come to think of it...I never really *had* to run. I only had to run a few feet for the vault in Gymnastics. I was even in Track and Field my junior year at VHS. But I did the "Field" part. One of my only memories of those few weeks was when I pulled both my quad muscles trying to sprint/race one of my coaches to the concession stand.
I just don't run.
So why did I start training for a 5k? I have no idea. It sounded like a good idea at the time. But, its seems I am the most hideous runner out there. I stomp, breathe really heavy, and the "girls" bounce everywhere. (Is there some sort of tape or something that can hold them two down? My sport bras don't seem to work all that well.)
I even catch myself *attempting* to sing along to the odd array of songs I have on my MP3 player. One of the trainers at the gym was actually surprised I had music from 2009 (Michael Buble', Maroon 5, etc). He thinks I am stuck in the past. But really, I just don't get out much. And I like music from the 60's 70's and 80's!
The poor people at my gym probably cringe when they see me. They had every intention on freeing their mind, reducing stress, and getting in shape. But instead they are stuck next to me...a sweaty, stomping, panting, middle aged lady. One who can't keep her boobs from attacking each other and sings odd 80's songs (like, Putting on the Ritz, by Taco) while spilling water on herself.
They will have their revenge though...once I am out on the open run, they will pass me and say, eat my dust or something like that. I just hope they don't fart. 'Cause I would laugh so hard, I'd start to cackle, and you can't cackle to Cruel Summer...that would be just wrong.