I’m in love.

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.