Well, I did it. Nine weeks of jogging training under my belt. I am a full-fledged graduate of Cool Running's Couch to 5K program. I still take a bit of offense at the word "couch," as I'm chasing after a toddler all day. Overall, the program title is not much of a misnomer.
I finished the last training run tonight, with Hatfield riding along with her Barbie scooter, by my side. I will definitely be taking my little sidekick along with me on more runs; when our conversation would lag because I was wheezing, she would cheer me on with, "Go Mom! You're doing great! Better than great! You're doing magnificently!" Gotta love that girl. When we finished the run, she told me that once her knee was better (she tore nearly all the skin off on a bike incident--ewww), she wanted to run with me. Rock on, little daughter!
My running-wise friends were so right: not only does it become easier, it becomes somewhat addicting. The post-run feeling is a great one: mentally, physically, emotionally. I don't know if I lost any weight (broken scale), but I can fit into pre-Paloma pants, which is a much bigger reward than any number on a scale.
Tomorrow we get to pick up our little packets and get our t-shirts (aren't free t-shirts the best? We use them as pajama tops.) The two big kids in our family are going to run in the Saturday morning Children's Race. Mom and Dad will be running bright and early Sunday morning.
The race course goes through the neighborhood I grew up in. We'll be able to see my childhood home, but not run past it. The race ends inside Lambeau Field--how cool is that?
The only thing I'm a bit nervous about is running with my husband. The Mister runs like a Nazi. He will run even when he's hurting--dying, really. The other week he went out running with Wanda, and before he knew it he was 4 miles from the house. So during the 4 miles back, his bum knee acted up. Still, he kept on running.
At the 1.5 hour mark, I began to get nervous, thinking about his knee going out somewhere. I had the kids get their shoes on and hustled them out to the car.
"Look!" Atticus shrieked, pointing down the lane. "There's Dad!"
We all stopped and stared.
Purple face, drenched clothing, barely grasping the dog leash, he was hunched over, running just like Lurch would from the Adam's Family.
"Huh," said Hattie. "He looks kind of strange."
The fact that our trusty Border Collie was skipping along, tail wagging, smiling, not even breaking a pant, made the whole thing even funnier.
But that is what I love about the Mister. The guy defines moxie.
Tomorrow's run will be pie for him; I'll be able to do it, but I just might be the one looking a bit Lurch-ish at the end. He is SOOOO terribly excited for us to run together. I know my Mr. Eternally Optimistic Man, and I know that he has the picture of the two of us, hand in hand, skipping through this race while singing Kenny Rogers songs.
Hmmm, somehow, that's not quite the same picture I have in my head.