I cannot remember the moment I first fell in love. (With running, that is. Don't worry Pita. I remember with perfect clarity the orange linen shirt that sealed the deal for me). Okay, the winks may have melted my heart a little too. Simply put, running has always been a part of who I am. And I think it might be one or all of my [three] sister's fault.
As any youngest child knows, there is a certain amount of worship factor towards older siblings. This idea was confirmed upon trying to wear my sister's way to big for me tops & shoes. And sorry Ann, I do recall trying on your retainer just once or 44 times. Yes, I agree...that is insanely sick and might be close to stalking.
I never stole my sister's retainer. (church donations? Yes. Orthodontic hardware? Never.) But I did think they (and all of their goodies/"Anise Anise" perfume/Duran Duran music/28 boyfriends who each thought they were her "only"/Farrah Faucet hair) walked on water - the hair probably could have after all the hairspray. Okay, never mind, it has nothing to do with my sisters. I'm just grumpy I didn't get to see all of them today [as previously planned].
I Actually blame my love of running, all on my "trials". Call it a coping mechanism - whatever.
Every time life came a knocking - - I went a running. There was just something about that 75 minutes when all that mattered was the polluted wind in my hair and the scorching 105 degree sun on my freckled nose.
Running from trials? Maybe, but I think not.
Each time I returned home, I felt renewed. I remember being 19 years old living with my parents over college summer break and having my mom say to me [on a "rest day"], "go running Em". "Just go, you'll come back feeling better." Taaa - Daaa! Like magic. Or maybe, like a MOM, she was right.
So some may say [and trust me they HAVE SAID] this is not a good way of "dealing" with an issue[s]. To which I say, "hey, cheaper than therapy".
* * If I lose you here I completely understand . . . my blog....my rant...my need to vent [may be a bit too personal for some]. * *
Sunday [yes, Mother's day] marks the day I lost my [unborn] second child. Now, let me first say that I am child-like in my emotions. Meaning . . heart on sleeve. Thin candy-like shell with chocolate molten lava ready to spew out at any moment. Yes, I've been called "dramatic" by
So. I. ran. Ever since the day I was given the "go ahead" from my doctor.
So. I. run.
I deal how I deal. And to Dr. Phil's question . . "How's that workin' out fer ya?".