I started running three years ago. When people asked, I’d tell them that I didn’t really like running, but I loved the way I felt when I was finished.
This weekend, I realized that’s not true anymore. I’m actually in love with running. On Sunday night, I laced up my shoes to head out for a run. I told Jon, “I’ll be back in an hour. Or more. Or less. I don’t really know how far I’m running, but I have my cell phone if you’re worried.” And then I just went out and ran until I felt like turning around. That’s it. No science, no strategy, no intervals set on my watch. I did run with my iPod for the first time in a long time, because I wanted some tunes. I did wear my running watch, but only so I knew how far I’d run when it was over.
It took almost no time for me to zone out, find my happy pace, and relax. Apparently I turned around at about 3.2 miles, because Garmin said 6.4 miles when I got back to my house. It took me about 1:15, which is shockingly an 11:43 pace, and pretty darn close to my 10k PR. Could Barb be right? Have I been selling myself short?
This morning, I realized I may also be falling in love with fitness. Alarm set for 4:50, I rolled out of bed at 5:00 to make it to a 5:30 am spin class. It was awesome to start my day knowing that my workout was already complete, and I’d have time to come home and cook a nice dinner. I think I may make Tuesdays and Thursdays my 5:30 spin days from now on. I’m shocked that I not only got up on time, but loved it. (Oops. Am I cheating on my love, running, with a new love, early workout?)
It’s official, folks. I’m smitten.