Thursday, March 29, 2012
Today was the first day that I genuinely felt like a runner.

I'm not sure what it was:  the two days of rest I forced myself to take, the yoga I did this morning, the grilled cheese and tomato sandwich I had for breakfast, or the wonderful lunch I had with one of my favourite galpals, Kasia.  Perhaps a combination of some or all of those things.  Whatever it was, I want to bottle it.  I'd make a fortune.

All day long I kept telling myself that today was going to be a run day, trying to make sure I was in the right frame of mine at the end of the day.  Despite looking forward to my workout, by mid-afternoon, I started to feel a bit pooped.  I needn't have doubted myself; by the time I walked through my front door, I was revving to go again.  After popping my dinner in the oven, I threw on my workout gear and away I went. 

7 intervals of run 1 minute/walk 2 minutes.  My walking speed was faster; my running speed was faster; my energy level was higher.  I felt better than I had ever felt before while running.  After the seventh interval, I was sure I could have done another one or two but decided to not push myself too far.  After 30 minutes, I hopped off the treadmill and I was smiling.  WTF?!  SMILING!  I was sweaty and exhausted but I was still smiling, knowing deep down inside that I had overcome a huge mental, physical and emotional hurdle.

I was running.  I ran.  I'm a runner.

Oh, and the best song to run to?  Europe's Final Countdown.  Yeah, baby.


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