I aimed for 5k. A courageous distance I thought, since I was 5'5, and 235lbs. But that took me only 3 months to achieve. I was amazed at what I could achieve.
Before i knew it I was hooked up with a Facebook group of runners, checking out running magazines and investing in running paraphernalia. I was a junkie at 5k.
I posted every run, because I'm rudely vain and wanted people to know that I may be overweight, but I'm a runner. Which makes that totally ok.
By October I had risen to the stage of running my first half marathon. For any non runners out there that is a distance of 20.1 kms. I - was an athlete!
Formed with the chisel of endurance. Tested with the brutalness of hard pavement and long rugged wilderness paths. I ran that half marathon like it was going to melt the pounds off with every km. And if it didn't, well I was doing it for a good charity cause.
And after October my running declined.
There is something about meeting your peak and knowing that's your best and then coming back to normal everyday training. It feels... boring.
The brutal terrain didn't seem so brutal as it did back in March. And that chisel began to wain with softness. Until finally I was back down to 5k in January of 2015.
And then I happily discovered I was pregnant. (planned).
I had such great ambitions! I was going to run my Entire Pregnancy! I saw a woman who ran her last half marathon at 6 months pregnant!
'well if she can do that! .... I could surely do a 5 or 10 km at 6 months!' I thought.
And maybe I could have, if I had kept up with my running. But I hadn't. I had let it slip away with the queasiness of morning sickness. And as I woke up in the morning, chewing on my lovely square soda crackers, I thought of that half marathon woman and figured she made it all up.
So the months went on and I signed up again for the same race I did last year for my first 5km run. Thankfully, they offered it as a 3k run as well. And if I just bombed out there was also a 3k walk. But mostly I really wanted to run and get the treat bag.
Tonight as I ran on my treadmill, I thought, at least I can be last. No one will laugh at the prego for being last place. It like you get an award just for trying.
My two concerns with this thought is that there will be pregnant women, farther along than I in the 5km race OR there will be other pregnant women I'm racing against in the 3km race, which totally nullifies my right to be last.