One day, I had the great idea to become a superb athlete so I could be a well rounded gal.
Needless to say, that was going to take a LOT of work. I was trying to make myself go from out-of-shape girl with a lucky spot of high metabolism to a running machine (since that is the only thing I am coordinated enough to do). The end is still uncertain, but one thing is for sure.
Running hurts. Big time. I've been running five miles on the weekend and every day after that I try to run at least one mile. No big deal. I've been doing that pretty much since I got a treadmill. But the other day I got a workout from one of my YW leaders at church in order to prepare for the trek that we're going on this summer, so I thought, "Hmmmmm. I think I can still run that mile and then work out for an extra hour doing the lovely looking things she put down for me and I'll find myself magically in great shape!"
Two hours later, I came pretty close to losing my mind.
There is something very intimate about running for me. It isn't a sport that causes you to rely on someone else in order to win. It is just you and your thoughts ... all alone for any time you choose. Luckily, my family has adopted a don't interrupt whilst on the treadmill rule, so I have had a lot of time to think recently. It is relaxing ... and it makes me feel great. I just wish that I could go further with it, but I don't know how.
Any who, on my jogging log for that day (a sheet I am required to fill out for BYU's running course that I am taking) I wrote down verbatim, "Today I felt to compelled to run, after I felt compelled to cry." I think I might have breached my limit a little too far this time. Ahh, well. It's just telling me that my hard work is paying off. At least one of the weird and mostly mindless things I do are coming to fruition.