Back of the Pack

I tried to be a runner once.

It didn't work out.

Reyna, Scully, and all you other runners out there are amazing to me.  AH.ma.zing, I tell ya!

Anyway, so....yeah.  Like I was saying, I tried to be a runner once.

We had our first "travelling" class at BodyBack last Saturday.  By "travelling" I mean....WE TRAVELED!  Yup.  We ran.

Did I mention that running and I didn't work out?

The pack set off and, by the time we rounded the first corner, I could tell I was going to fall into the caboose position.  Quite frankly, I didn't mind being in the back.  My primary concern was that my running weakness might hold someone else back.  I mean, some of these mamas are training for marathons!  (I don't fall into that category, btw.)

As it turned out, our amazing instructor had eyes in the back of her head.  She could tell when the distance between the lead runner and I started getting too far apart, and then had the class loop back around so I wasn't left behind.

So it went.  They would run, and loop, and run some more....I ran when I could, walked a good bit, and just kept trying to breathe.  All the while, I was the slowest, and kept trying to remind myself that I was still part of the pack -- even if the pack was way up there while I was way back here.  They would cheer my name and encourage me.  They challenged me to try harder.  At one point, I just wanted to lay down in the grass and call it a day, but they helped me keep moving.

And keep moving, I did.

At the end of the workout, the instructor said she thought I had run/walked 3 miles (that's a 5k, btw.  I did a Couch to 5k in ONE DAY!)  Most of the rest of the class ran 4 (seriously, this group of women is amazing!)

Once I had a chance to rest and stretch for a few minutes, I could tell that I might be able to keep going a little more.  I really wanted to see if I could move for another mile.  Not really to prove anything to anyone...just that I wanted to challenge myself, and rise to the occasion.

Over the past few years, I feel like I've stopped challenging myself.  Sure, maybe I'll find a recipe and challenge myself to make it.  Or see 5 baskets of laundry and challenge myself to fold them.  Or stick to the kitchen floor and challenge myself to clean it....but there was a time that I'd really push myself to do things.  Real things.  Measurable things.  I had career aspirations (i.e. ER, PACU, L&D!) and goals for motherhood (i.e nursing each child for 2+ years!) and big plans for community activism (i.e. caring for the homeless, diabetes advocacy, and saving the lives of children around the world in need of insulin.)

Lately, however, I know I'm not as driven.  And it bugs me.  I don't want to wander from one day to the next without a sense of accomplishment.  I want to jump in to each new day feet first, ready to tackle whatever comes my way.  No one is guaranteed another day.  If my clock stops ticking tomorrow, I want to leave a legacy...an imprint.  I don't want to disappear into the hazy horizon of blood sugar checks and hidden gluten.

On the way home, I pulled over and stared at a track on the corner of our street.

Then I ran/walked another mile.

To make it a total of 4 for me too.