Oh, the Places You'll Go!

This girl never dreamed it would happen.

But it did.

I ran 2 miles on Saturday.

Not fast, but steady. I found the perfect route that is all uphill one way, then all downhill on the return trip. (Me likey that.)

So there I was, running down the main drag, wearing my Incredible Shrinking Woman shirt, listening to showtunes, 90’s hip hop, ska, and swing music. Wearing some black pants, a Serenity Tena bladder pad (FYI- BEST pad to wear while running. When Gma Bush passed away this spring, Mom gave me 5 packages that hadn’t been used. Those things could suck up a small lake!) I had on a super strength running bra, a hat, and carried a heart full of questions.

Can I really do this?

Am I going to make it to the end?

Will I need to stop and breathe like usual?

Will I ever get this faster? (Cause my pace makes it drag on forever.)

Why am I doing this?

I am learning the key to running is forcing yourself to have an out of body experience. I remove my brain from the concept of jogging. I don’t think about it. It’s repetition. One foot, next foot, swing arms in the same fashion. Nothing fancy. That’s what works for me.

Once I have removed myself from jogging, my mind begins to wander.

And I really think about things.

Like the fact my husband thinks I’m hot. Even after all these years. I can still leave him breathless. We went to a film festival on Friday night, and I did the full makeup, with false eyelashes and big lips. And went dressed as the Incredible Shrinking Woman. Like this:

And at the end of that night, while sitting in the bathtub, before I washed off my makeup, I grabbed my iphone and took a quick pic. A pic that my hubby couldn’t stop staring at. A pic that he worked on to get the light levels just right. For once, he didn’t have to photoshop out any double chins. Or make it look thinner. My face was perfect the way it was in his eyes. Here’s what he did with the pic.

I am lucky to be so happily married. And excited that I still make him excited.

I think about my kids. So worried that they are- or will become- fat. I remember those feelings. No matter how much your parents boost your self esteem, you still find yourself measuring yourself up to an impossible standard. All I can do is feed them healthy foods, make exercise fun, and support them. Encourage them. Love them unconditionally no matter what their friends have said about them. Make home a safe place. Teach them to fight their fear of being fat with movement, not with their emotions. Such a tough lesson, but a necessary one.

I think about my extended family. All my brothers and sisters and Margaret the Saint and Dan the Man- supporting me through this whole journey. Telling me from time to time how proud they are of me. Tricky Nikki, always offering to meet with me and workout. Julia, who lovingly talks me down off the dieting ledge, with compassion and tenderness on a bi-weekly basis. Margaret the Saint, who always takes me shopping when I announce I am in a new size and have no jeans. My brothers, who make fun of me (as required by the natural order of nature) but remind me to keep my sense of humor about this whole thing. And Dan the Man, who says little, but nods his head at what I have accomplished thus far. My family.

I think about McMuscles. This kind stranger who came out of nowhere and offered to help out, when I was feeling like a hamster in the dieting wheel. Who took me out of my normal routine and is making my body feel strong and lean for the very first time. Who doesn’t just run me through the motions, but teaches me why the motions are important. He is giving me lessons about the inner working of my body- where I need a push, what is growing, and how I can keep making things better and tighter and toner.

And my blog, where I have recorded all my feelings day after day for posterity’s sake. So I can one day look back and see how I’ve changed. Where I have received uplifting comments no matter what I was feeling. Where I have described in detail my experiences time and time again. Where women just like me were cheering me on from the sidelines. Or doing it right along side me. Who laughed, who cried, who spoke up, who just kept reading. Who made this journey so palatable for me. Who reminded me why I needed to finish this.

And before I know it, I am back at my starting point. I just knocked out 2 miles.

The crazy thing is… I probably could have gone another mile.

And that first girl never thought it would happen.

Boy oh boy, I have never been so glad to be wrong!