Several years ago, when T was 8 months old, we bought a new house, moved across the city, and started our lives in Littleton, CO. Not only did I have my sweet boy at the time, but also a sassy, energetic 2 year old girl. Jer was working the usual crazy hours of a man in the car industry, and I was staying home with my two kiddos. So, just to make things more interesting, I suggested we get a puppy. That was probably the hardest winter I've encountered. Charlie peed everywhere, chewed everything, and even partially-digested some of our socks. Yup, I found them in his you-know-what while pooper-scoopering our yard.
So in true Jenny fashion, I decided we, once again, could not let our lives become too easy. However this time we had 3 kids, my husband still worked the same crazy hours, and I am homeschooling. Naturally I decided it was a good time to train for my first marathon.
Sunday was my longest run ever- 14 miles. It was 25 degrees outside, windy as all-heck, and I had been experiencing some GI discomfort from our recent vacation. It would have been easy to put it off for another day. But if you haven't noticed already, I'm seldom drawn to the easy-way.
I was on a trail near my home that weaves its way for miles and miles through neighborhoods, farms, and parks. The sky was the Colorado-blue all natives love and huge, white mountains hovered behind me on my way out, and loomed in front of me on my way back home. It was beautiful. Everything about the run was beautiful. God's creation surrounding me. The comaderie of the other runners- equipped with jackets, gloves, and camel-baks- also out on their weekly "long run". And the fact that I was doing it- I was mentally blocking out the sharp-pain through my knees, the chaffing on my abdomen and armpits, and the reality that this run was barely more than half the distance of the race I had signed up to run.
When I finished I thought, "Man, that was tough. I never want to run that far again."
Well, at least not again this week.
Total running time was just over 2 hours.