Runner

Running was something I always loathed. From K through 6th grade I went to a small, Lutheran school. So small, that you had to be on every team. Every team; basketball, volleyball, and, ugh...track. Running was okay if it was something you were doing because you were outside playing. But running a race? Against other girls? Forget it. I'm not a fast runner, and I'm not competitive.
So I loved it in 7th grade when I went to a public junior high and I didn't have to do any sports if I didn't want to. heh heh.
Fast forward to this past December. I've always tried to maintain some semblance of an exercise program. I've been doing Pilates 3 times a week for about 6 years, give or take. And I've walked off and on. And last December I started walking on the treadmill. Fast. Walking very fast. I started going a mile, than a mile and a quarter, and so on. One day, I dared myself to run. And I did. And I haven't looked back. I now run 2.5 miles 3 times a week, sometimes 4. That's anywhere from 7.5 to 10 miles a week! Pretty good for someone who used to hate to run. Now I'm addicted. If I miss a few days, I go through withdrawals.
I'm sure people who run marathons wouldn't consider me to be a runner. I'm small potatoes to them. I don't care. I'm running, aren't I?
So there!
FF