First of all I have to say this; Three miles??? Piece of Cake!!! That is at least how I felt Wednesday when I ran three and a half miles, and today when I ran three and three quarter miles. The first three miles have been easy, anything beyond that and my posture crumbles and I have to pull something out of my core to get myself to keep going.
Today I was running (or what most people would call jogging) and into my last three quarters of a mile when a speed walking pregnant lady passed me. It made me remember something that happened when I lived in Colorado. My sister had a friend who was training for the Hawaii Marathon. She joined a training club to assist her with motivation, form, and endurance. On her first outing with the training club they started running and about five minutes into the run she was all alone with the training club long gone. I remember feeling insecure for her.
I also remember talking to my sister and her friend about how I wanted to be able to run a few miles. They told me the way to start is run a bit, walk a bit, repeat; slowly increasing the distance. I told them that I felt as though people would be watching and thinking that I didn’t belong on the trail except to walk.
For a split second I started wondering what the very fit pregnant woman thought of the very slow runner on the trail and realized it really didn’t matter; everyone has to start somewhere.
Today I was running (or what most people would call jogging) and into my last three quarters of a mile when a speed walking pregnant lady passed me. It made me remember something that happened when I lived in Colorado. My sister had a friend who was training for the Hawaii Marathon. She joined a training club to assist her with motivation, form, and endurance. On her first outing with the training club they started running and about five minutes into the run she was all alone with the training club long gone. I remember feeling insecure for her.
I also remember talking to my sister and her friend about how I wanted to be able to run a few miles. They told me the way to start is run a bit, walk a bit, repeat; slowly increasing the distance. I told them that I felt as though people would be watching and thinking that I didn’t belong on the trail except to walk.
For a split second I started wondering what the very fit pregnant woman thought of the very slow runner on the trail and realized it really didn’t matter; everyone has to start somewhere.
Speed-walking preggers always impress me - and parents pulling/toting kids on bikes, in strollers, etc. But once I saw a big belly bump finish an olympic-distance triathlon and I felt like a fine line had been crossed.
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