ingrid

I ran this last week…. twice!  It was a stunning anomaly— me, running.  I mean, I have run before.  I started running in earnest in 1999.  Brad and I had this weird idea that we would run a 10K on our first anniversary, as though running 6 miles even compares to the agony and work of being married!  Way harder, less gatorade.  The running continued though.  That year of ’99 was marked with one race after another; I even took 3rd (or 4th?) and got a ribbon for one race.  (It wasn’t really that I was all that fast, it was just a ribbon for my age bracket which was bizarrely small I guess).  That year my friends all became jocks too.  One delightful friend in particular convinced us that we should all try to run a marathon, so we picked up a bunch of copies of Hal Whoever’s Non-runner’s Marathon book and hit the trails.  And I did it, and I liked it.  The following year I ran Hood To Coast, which I really liked (besides all the trash and plastic bottles those runners create.  I didn’t like that.)

And then what happened?  Not much.  I continued to run throughout grad school, but stopped pretty abruptly when I had a real job.  Running didn’t fit into my life so great if no one was delivering a schedule to my door.  I am sort of a social runner too.  If no one was going out, I was certainly not going to run alone.

Still, I did like it while I was doing it.  That period in my life allowed me to explore my inner jock.  I actually make quite a good one.  I am very competitive physically.  I don’t give up and am fairly impervious to pain.  I like hills, I like challenges, I like to go faster, longer, stronger than others.  Too bad I don’t have any actual talent.  I could’ve really been someone, if I actually, you know, had talent.  Maybe motivation would help me too.

I’ve sort of jogged here and there, usually while pushing the stroller somewhere, and never really in running clothes because that would mean that I am really committed to, you know, running.  But anyway, I ran along with my sister-in-law this weekend as she trained for the LA Marathon in March (Go Katka! Yeah!).  I was worried about her running schedule.  I was pretty sure that I could do the 40 minute run, but the 14 miler seemed impossible.  It turned out that I decided that it was indeed impossible as of yet, (wise choice), and did half with her.  Seven miles felt great.  Abso-friggin-lutely excellent.  The secret is that we went ass-dragging slow.  It was awesome.  I need to remember that slow is the bomb.

This brings me to my question: what am I going to do about my inner jock?  Is she going to wither away in there?  How can I maintain her while living my life and providing for all these kids?  (By the way, where did all these kids come from?  Can someone tell me please?  They are eating all my food and have totally ruined my couch with their snotty noses.  Anyone?  Anyone?).  I wonder sometimes if there are parts of me that must lie latent until their time.  I have the feeling that my fifties are going to be awesome.

Old ass photo, me, Anne, Brad, and Jim. May 30th, 2000. This is the 27 year old me. What a jock.

In: Current musings | | #