One Year!

Roy, bearer of all knowledge, informed me this morning that one year ago today we purchased a pair of pink Nike running shoes. The shoes symbolized the start of my commitment to running.

I didn’t want to start running, if we’re honest. This is because I had started running--multiple times in the past--and never liked it. It felt like such WORK all the time. I would read of athletes, friends, family even, who would run and feel exhilarated and free. I felt heavy, hot, and slow. The last time I gave it a real shot was three years ago. I tweaked something in my hip within two weeks of training for a 5K and couldn’t walk without twinges for another two months.

My sweet husband has been running for years, and he’s naturally gifted at it. (Shocker, I know…) He is also aware of my moods and personality enough to know that I’m a much happier, energetic, nice human when I have exercised. And so he nudged me in the direction of picking up running again. “It’s cheap, it’s exhilarating, you don’t have to do it for long to get in a good workout, and you get outside!”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Roy is also no fool. He totally bribed me with new shoes. I caved. What gal doesn’t want new shoes?! I reluctantly dragged myself to Dicks with him and tried on a half-dozen pairs of--Oh, hello!--pretty pretty shoes. I ran around the store and on a treadmill they had to test the different brands. And, ultimately, thankfully, the Nikes were the most comfortable and not nearly as pricey as some of the other options. I’ve had foot issues since middle school and I knew it was critical to find great footwear if this even had a chance. (I should note that the hot pink ones I ended up with weren’t especially my first choice color-wise, but they didn’t have the same brand in a different color in my size.)

The bright pink ended up being a real pick-me-up during the gray winter. Glancing down and seeing a pop of pink kept me going on some long, really cold days.

The shoes were expensive enough that I knew I needed to use them in order to not be plagued with guilt. And when we then purchased a new-to-us, top of the line, double jogging stroller, my fate was sealed. I was going to have to do this whether I liked it or not, because otherwise we had just flushed a fat chunk of change down the toilet.

<sigh>

So a year ago today I went running after the boys were in bed and was shocked to discover upon returning home that I had run three miles without stopping. I was hot and sweaty, but I didn’t feel like my feet had bricks attached to them. I wasn’t sure if my new shoes were giving me a psychological or physical edge, but I knew that I had kind of enjoyed myself…

Over the past year I haven’t always enjoyed myself. Just yesterday we ran one of our favorite 5K routes and I never really got my legs under me. But I did it. We’ve started, literally, running errands. We run to the bank, we run to the bakery (a very necessary errand…), we run to the drugstore, and when we’re feeling really motivated, we run three miles to the nearest Wegmans and back again. We’ve run to every playground within a 3 mile radius. We’ve run to hiking trails and to the shores of the nearby bay. The boys love the stroller…Owen daily goes out to the garage and climbs in his seat expectantly, even if we’ve already used it that day. We use our runs to calm them on rough mornings—the gentle breeze and smooth pace tends to lull them. Roy and I have had some of our best conversations during runs. We discuss books, politics, religion, family, us. It’s been a consistent time of connection for us.

In the past year I’ve run through crunchy leaves, powdery snow, freshly-cut grass, and the yellow dusting of pollen. I’ve seen my immediate community in a way I never would have if I chose to drive everywhere. We’ve gotten to know the people who work at the bakery and bade ‘good mornings’ to hundreds of neighbors and townsfolk. We’ve scratched our heads repeatedly at the weekly occurrence of someone commenting on the cuteness of the “twins you have in there.” (Seriously, James is twice as big as Owen.)

Kind of like this. Also, guys, podium training is TOMORROW. #fivegoldsforsimone

I want to be completely forthright here and admit that we aren’t ready to enter any half-marathons. Running for us is typically a 30 minutes-a-day venture. We rarely run more than 3 or 4 miles at a time, but that’s enough to trigger all kinds of endorphins and motivation for the rest of the day. In the past year we’ve eaten better, we’ve laughed more, and, let’s be honest, our legs have never looked better. ;)

So, Roy, you were right. Per usual. In the past year I ran by myself maybe a dozen times. Thanks for running with me the other zillion dozen, because I never would have made it a whole year without your urging and companionship.

And here’s to another year of running: may more days this year be a little easier, may James not grow too big for the double stroller, may our touchy ankles stay strong, and may our little family continue to laugh and love as we lope along our streets and trails.

Also, a new pair of running shoes.

Today’s 1%:

 Book 46/50: Born Survivors. Two years ago I read Unbroken, the story of an Olympic runner turned POW turned PSTD survivor. It was an incredibly true story, turned into a movie this past year. This year's Unbroken was Born Survivors. The story of three Jewish women sent to Aschwitz and somehow managed to keep their pregnancies a secret. Their infants, born in a sweatshop, cattle car, and death cart, all survived the horrors of WWII, as did their mothers, and ultimately discovered each other much later in life. It was an INCREDIBLE story. Really hard to read, but so well-written and humbling. 5 stars.

Book 47/50: Positive. A memoir of a young girl born with HIV and her experiences with bullying in the public schools. How dreadful to be mocked and scorned for something entirely not your fault. I was especially moved by Paige's encounter with a fellow teenager who was purposely injected with HIV in a cruel act of revenge. His testimony of forgiveness proved to be a turning point in her own struggles with seeking revenge.