Getting an Ass-Whuppin'

See, I used to be a runner. I started running a little over seven years ago. Usually, when people start running, they start off small. One or two miles here and there. After a few years, they decide, Hey, I could run a 5K. That would be swell! They run that 5K, get a kick out of the t-shirt received at the end of the run, and decide that in addition to those statehood spoons they've been collecting, they also want to collect race shirts.

So, the first 5K is followed by another, then another, then another until they finally have enough 5K race shirts to fill a wall. That's when the runner, not so new any longer, gets a subscription to Runners' World, learns what fartlek means and how to calculate their target heart rate. Then, the fun begins. Hey, how about a 10K? That's just twice the distance, I can do that, the runner thinks. The months and years go by until finally the runner is ready for their first half marathon and once that is accomplished, the full 26.2 mile marathon smacks them in the face. They spend five months training and run a grueling race and receive a medal at the end. This is typically the natural progression in the life of a runner.

Me? Ish. I did it ALL kinds of backwards. See, my running career began the day after Thanksgiving, 2000 and ended January 28, 2005. I started running three miles a day, right from the get-go. By January, my running buddies and I decided, Hell, why run a 5K when you can run a marathon? That's right, the first race yours truly ever ran in her short running career was the Country Music Marathon, Nashville, Tennessee, April 28, 2001.

Oh. My. God.

The distance to Hell and back is, for a fact, 26.2 miles. If you're thinking of visiting and coming back after a week or so, that's what your speedometer will say. Trust me on this.

The race was good although at mile 20, I was beginning to question my sanity and by mile 23, I no longer gave a shit. But, the important thing is I finished. I got my medal. And I never returned. After that race, I ran a myriad of 5Ks and two 10Ks (hard-ass 10Ks involving many hills and one water break throughout the entire race). The last day I ran was the morning of Friday, January 28, 2005. The day I was successfully artificially inseminated. The day that began my journey as a mom.

So, here I am, almost three years later. I've jogged here and there but nothing compared to my running "career" prior to kids. I actually keep a running log.

Before kids? 1,850 miles
After kids? 29.5 miles

I've run a marathon and a 5K in three years.

I'm sooooo out of shape.

So, this morning, I dusted off the running shoes and broke out the hasn't been worn in three years running clothes. OK, I've gained so much weight with my two pregnancies and post J-man that the sleeves - yes, the friggin' sleeves - of my lycra/nylon blend shirt are tight.

Crap.

And did I mention camel toe? Luckily I ran at 6AM this morning so it was too dark to see said camel toe.

I ran/walked (OK, OK, so it was mostly walking with much huffing and puffing) three miles. Mostly flat, not a lot of hills, but I did it.

It's going to take a lot of work to get back to consistently running 15 miles a week with no walking involved. But I'm going to do it.

Why?

Because.... if I'm going to waste money on buying new pairs of jeans, it had better be because the old ones are too big, not because they're suddenly too small. I can't keep using the old "the dryer must have shrunk them" excuse forever.

Sheesh.
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Oh, and? Don't forget about Mr. Fab's Blog Talk Radio show this Sunday, December 16th, at 7PM EST. I'll be co-hosting (holy Mother) and I might even get the Coal Miner's Daughter-in-Law (a.k.a. my mama) to show up. Woo hoo! Click here to get there.