Meet my legs. The object of my shame and contempt since I was 10 years old and noticed that my thighs were bigger than my little tiny best friend's. I've been pretty persistent in hating them. Pretty relentless in noticing cellulite. Pretty merciless in noting the way my knees point awkwardly outward and we won't even START with my judgment of my ankles or the very white whiteness of them. Oh golly.
I'm thinking today I owe them a public apology. I've really not been kind AT ALL in my attitude toward them. I refuse to even OWN shorts, for fear that someone else will condemn them as cruelly as I do.
Know what? Today they were AMAZING. I took 'em out for that "challenge run" that I mentioned a day or two ago.
I didn't run as far as my secretly proud inner show-off planned to go. At about halfway to my anticipated turnaround point, I got a little twinge of pain in my foot with the arthritis in it. Just a little twinge. But I remembered that my podiatrist said, "If it hurts, don't do it," so I figured I'd best not push it or gamble that the pain might get real. Better beat a retreat for home. (For the record, it never returned...and I'm icing it even as I type, just to help it not to flare up.)
My plan was to run, prayerfully, as far as I could run. It isn't all dark and cool out there today like my usual running weather. It's about 85 degrees and the sun is blazing. At one hour out, I was feeling like dying, slowing to a walk (which somehow made me feel weaker and breathe much harder) when cyclist passing me stopped, concerned. "Are you okay? You look very hot. You should probably sit down." I hushed the proud little voice in me that wanted to be defensive, and thanked him for checking. And decided maybe the Lord had sent good counsel along the way, and maybe I should quit trying to be the superstar. At the next opportunity for shade, I sat down. For HALF AN HOUR. It took most of that time to stop huffing and puffing and sweating. I finished up what was left in my camelback water bag (I HATE wearing that thing to run, but one doesn't go out for that long without hydration, and it was what I had available. Thank You Lord that it was available.)
The rest of the trip home was surprisingly easy. I ran it. I didn't get as tired as I had been. I am a sweaty, soggy, disgusting mess but I feel...you know I love this feeling...like a badass.
And more importantly, I feel like I owe my legs an apology. Look what they just did! They are amazing! I was out for 2 hours and ran about 6 miles, all told (I'm no speed demon, but I'm running laps around the me that used to sit on the couch...) They ought to be treated nicer than I've been doing. If you catch me practicing hate speech against them, call me on my crap and don't give me mercy. Please. I gotta be nicer to them. Not flinching from putting their picture up on the blog...it's a start.
Meanwhile I've been stretching and stretching some more. Drinking massive quantities of water. Ate half a power bar, to help my body know it will get sustenance and needn't hold onto fat. Icing my foot. And can't wait to get out of these totally saturated clothes and into the shower.
In other good news, I don't need to go shopping. Rolling up my running pants as pictured works. They didn't fall down. I can do THAT for the Bix next weekend. Which will be the next time I run. Taking a break from running, from now to then, per general runner wisdom.
This stuff is fun. How crazy is that?!