Road Runner Going Hundred Mile Per Hour

Good morning, Maybe Hazel.

My favorite running song: Michael Franti & Spearhead--You can't help but do a little booty-shaking  when this starts playing.

Weekend before last, we were at a fabulous and bittersweet farewell party. You probably remember the embarrassingly high number of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies that kept sending those sweet sugar waves your way. Those cookies were baked by my friend Liz, and as we chatted, she mentioned that she had a  brilliant trail run while vacationing in Oregon, and she'd thought about how much I would love it.

*sigh*

I don't know the exact moment I became a runner. Certainly, I've never been known for any sort of athletic prowess. I think trying out for the volleyball team in 6th grade may have marked the end of my athletic curiosity. But, I now identify as a runner (albeit, a runner on hiatus).

When I found out I was pregnant with you, I started researching. The tricky thing about the internet is that you basically can find information to support any position you're interested in defending. So, it's no surprise that I found lots of positive support for running as long as I could. 

I'm not gonna lie. I had a little fantasy that I was as tough as Kara Goucher and Paula Radcliffe, and I planned to run the Summer Series 5Ks up until you made your appearance.

I felt slower right off the bat, probably due to that pesky anemia. I've never been speedy, but I saw 9-minute miles increase to 10, 11 . . . I transitioned into woggling--a mixture of jogging and walking. I purchased a hideous maternity belt that kept you stable as I woggled 3-4 mornings a week.

On May 12, I completed the Luck of the Draw 8K, placing an impressive 165th place (out of 185 runners--hahaha). I also was scrambling up Piestewa Peak every other week. Slowing down, week by week.

Then, you made it very clear that my last name definitely isn't Goucher, and I had to shut it down altogether for a few weeks.

Now, we walk. Walking is good. It's not running, but we're staying healthy and safe. Running is my therapy; forced focus on the breath is the best active meditation for a Nervous Nelly like me. So, I know we'll get back to it. Maybe you'll remember the cadence of my feet hitting the pavement as I push you along in your stroller, and you'll be rocked into a contemplative space like mine, as I pretend once again that I can be like Goucher (who finished 5th in the Boston Marathon just 7 months after having her son and whose every move I'll follow this Olympics!).