Three miles. I did it! It was plenty warm--forty degrees according to Minnie. My lungs felt great. I kept thinking about how much farther it is to run 26.2 miles. But it doesn't really help to think that way. Taped inside my shoe locker in our mudroom is a paper that says, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with one small step." I see that sign every day. If I just keep taking those steps, I'll get there. And if I don't, I won't. It's totally up to me. That's the truth.
Sometimes you've got to do something just to know you can. It's the greatest feeling in the world. Greg and I ran the 2013 St. George Marathon. It was my favorite marriage-strengthening adventure so far. Running a marathon has always been on my bucket list, but it was never on Greg's list. And he did it with me! Crossing that finish line, hand in hand, sweaty and chafed, exhausted and smiling, was incredibly romantic. Who trains and runs a marathon just because the person you love wants to run one? My husband. That's who. And I'll always love him for that.
But 2013 was a LONG time ago. And I took a long break from running to have a baby. So, it feels like starting over at the beginning. It's "One Small Step..." and all that.
This morning, I headed out on my favorite country road. I said hello to the cows trudging through the muddy pasture, and I breathed in deeply. The sweet smell of cows always feels like home. I started running in the fourth grade--one mile up the road, one mile back. Along the way, I would pass Fowers' old dairy farm. And breathe deeply. I swear, those moments just filled up my soul to the brim with happiness.
My mom was a jogger and I wanted to give it a try. Being the champion of the fourth-grade foot races only peaked my interest more. So off I would go, borrowing my mom's yellow walkman, one mile up, one mile back. One day, my dad told me that if I could beat him in a race, he would buy me my own running shoes. Who knows what I was wearing before that? So with the neighborhood kids watching, Dad and I raced along the road, the wind whipping my blonde hair. I was fast. And young. And I loved getting my own running shoes. I like to think Dad loved buying them for me too.
Today the winter sky was heartbreakingly blue with just a few wispy clouds. When my footfall crunched in the loose gravel, a whole flock of birds whipped up out of the brush along the road, soaring up to the blue backdrop. They looked as free as I felt. It's just like fourth grade; I still love running.
And I think the construction workers I passed were checking out my leggings. At least that's what this mother of six is telling herself...
It's a happy day!
No comments:
Post a Comment