I run. I really, really, REALLY run. Why can’t I give myself any recognition and call myself a runner?
I run all day, every day.
I am an extremely diversified runner at that. I run in my slippers….to the bathroom, to the mailbox, for the phone, to over boiling water, to arguing siblings. I run.
I run in my car….to the grocery store, the gas station, the post office, the mall, the dry cleaners, the butcher, the bakery. I run.
Geeze! I even run out of breath!!!
I am unclear on the other sport of running. Running there and back again accomplishing nothing more than a sweaty body and aching muscles. Egoistic. Running without filling it up with an errand and doing it just for yourself, taking up precious time of day. Running in the wind, sun or rain just to do it. Imagine that!
I am very curious about this loner “sport”. To fill my inquisitive mind, I went to the local Gym yesterday. Shiny cold metal everywhere. Muscle bodies waiting to occupy the next available machine that promises strength or endurance. Treadmills all lined up in a row for people to spend time on racing like a hamster on a wheel. Some heavy, some lean…inspiring. “Is this how it all begins”, I wondered? Shall I trade in my slippers and car and go to the dark side in sneakers and a short towel to soak up my sweat and attempt the variation of my sport? Trust that aching muscles will feel good? Maybe be able to run a half marathon with my Partner someday in the VERY distant future? Very interesting.
HUGE decision.
Signed on the membership dotted line and will lace up my sneakers next week (without procrastination)- I will attempt to and will someday, have the respect of being an athletic runner in some way, shape or form.
Maybe if this is a success, I will try swimming next,…..
since I swim already. In bills, laundry, stress, housework……..
The Starting End 