I’m not sure how this happened. I’m not a morning person. I don’t feel much compulsion to exercise, other than a general mental assent that it’s a really good idea. And I’m definitely not a runner.

So how is that given the choice between grabbing thirty more minutes of sleep and dragging myself out of bed so I can slowly, painfully, run panting through the forest, I’ve been consistently choosing the latter?

I can run up a hill now. I pretty much feel like I’m going to die when I get to the top, but that’s how I used to feel after running thirty seconds on flat ground.

I can run half a mile in about three spurts, with another half mile of walking interspersed between the spurts. Some mornings I even feel good afterward. Okay, that’s not really true. Some mornings I feel good as I finish running. After running pretty much always just feels gross and sweaty and overheated.

And for the record, I’m still really, really slow. Some people would call what I do jogging, but jogging is weird and bad for your joints, and might require some sort of union approved spandex suit, so I definitely don’t do that. I just run really slowly.

So if I run, does that make me a runner?

I’m five foot two and overweight by, um, let’s just say more than ten pounds. At my most fit I’m still built more like a Clydesdale than a greyhound, and I’m about as athletically coordinated as a walrus falling down stairs.

But for a couple months now I’ve been running at least a couple times a week. So far this week I’ve gotten up to run every morning. One more day without major shin splints, or getting sick, or having an early morning emotional breakdown, it will be a full week of running.

Weird.

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