I'm sure for most of you who know me, losing my mind isn't really that newsworthy. My sister, especially, will tell you I've always been a little crazy. But that aside, this may officially make me a lunatic.
I'm going to run a 5k.
I didn't stutter, but I'll hold on a minute while you catch your breath from the hilarity that statement caused. Go ahead. Take your time. I'll wait.
I've never been a runner. EVER. In gym class when we had to do the mile, I would jog, maybe halfway around the track, then get a stitch in my side and limp the rest of the way. I'd be the last one huffing and puffing my way into the locker room. My boobs bounced too much, I got shin splints and we won't even talk about the fire I set in my undies by the friction of my thighs rubbing together.
My thighs still rub together, but the boobs and the shin splints aren't a problem anymore and since I've decided to make this fitness thing stick, I decided that having a goal in mind would help me find purpose in all this working out. Not that "not dying" isn't a purpose (trust me, it is!), but what's the point in being fit if I can't show it off, right?
I decided in August, when my hometown does it's annual Prairie Fest, I'll be a part of it. The race begins at the park next to the house I lived in growing up. As if that won't have enough emotional bearing on me that day, I will be doing this race by myself. My bestie and I do a lot together, but because of her knees, she can't run long distances. We walk the shit out of stuff, but there's no running for the two of us together. And that's okay. Sometimes you just have to do things yourself.
So, as the song says....here I go again.