I ran 8.33 at a 9:30 pace this morning. As I accept your kudos and adulation for my PR, I’d like to thank my mama, Elvis, and my homie B12.
I was weary at the start. It took me all morning to get myself together and out the door. Then BAM! I hit that magical 30-minute mark and my legs felt strong. My lungs felt full. My head felt clear. I threw intervals to the wind and just ran.
I felt so fantastic I wanted to leap and skip and twirl to show my sheer joy at feeling like me. I contented myself with running faster. (Notice all the italics in this post? Because I feel very emphatic today.) The sun was shining. I was dressed appropriately for the weather (I have a slight learning disorder when it comes to proper attire for cold/warm/in-between temps). My iPhone provided just the right shuffle of songs. ‘Twas a fine day to be running.
I ran downhill. I ran uphill. And the uphill felt good. I relished the strong push of my muscles as I climbed those hills, each one faster than the last. I celebrated each strong breath I took as I travelled up those inclines. The scenery is green again; I caught the scent of lilacs from a few yards and enjoyed the wilder vegetation as I ran further from developments and traffic. I also realized I watch too many crime shows when I caught myself thinking, “This would be a great dumping ground for a body.”
I swear, I have no murderous plans (at the moment…).
Now I am home and RAVENOUS. I already downed a pouch of tuna (I was too hungry to make an actual salad) and am currently chowing on not one but two baked sweet potatoes (granted, they are baby-sized). I’ll finish, shower the running stink off me, and mix up my Shakeology.
What I’m trying to say, FitPeeps, is that this – THIS – is a FABULOUS Saturday.
I am healthy. I have energy. My firstborn is 9 years old today. We have a quality family time planned, and I’ll probably eat some cake.
Ain’t much can top all that.