I've secretly wanted to be a runner all my life. Some of my good friends in high school were on the track team (like the long distance track team) and I would sporadically attempt an afternoon run with them. I was always left behind.
So, I just gave up. I would run occasionally in college, but I stuck to walking (which kept me in good enough shape considering how big our campus was and the complete lack of parking situation we had going on at the time).
But, this little thing kept nagging me. Over and over again, every time I thought about my New Year's resolution I pondered, "Is this the year I do it?" and by "it" I mean run an actual race. Only a 5K, but still, it nagged me.
And so I decided, by 30 I would just do it. I started some training last summer. Totally fell off the bandwagon and then kicked it back up again in the spring of this year. Thanks to one of my favorite trainers at the gym (who gives it to me straight- you won't be a runner without running- thanks, Gary.) I crossed my fingers that this would be my year.
I signed up for a Mud Run at a local farm. People told me I was crazy. I thought it would be fun. And distracting. Let's just say everyone was right.
Oh, and did I mention this was the morning of my 30th birthday? Talk about procrastinating.
|Post Race muddiness|
Let's just say, I made it. I had fun. And I ran most of the race. A Mud Run is much harder than a road race: soaking wet shoes in soft sand in not an easy thing to navigate.
I was proud of myself. And Hubs was pretty proud of me too.
Who knows? Maybe I'll do it again next year.