I don't like actually like running all that much. I get bored with it. 

I try to challenge myself with speed, distance, terrain. 

Then I ask myself, why?

And answer, to be healthier. To be able to run and play and laugh and compete all at once and better than I can now. 

The answer has only the most minor effect on my mindset.

Add to this the chorus of friends I haven't seen since I've started running consistently, each verse sounding something like, "Wow! How much weight have you lost?" "You look great!" "You're so small!" and my mind wants to stop my body from ever running again ever.

Counterintuitive? Yes. I was happy with my body before. I'm happy with it now. I don't want anyone, ANYONE to think I run for weight loss or muscle tone, because I truthfully don't. I run for cardiovascular and respiratory health.

I know my body will fail in looks before it fails in ability. I'm trying to prolong the abilities I have, not the looks. 

I also know it's an uncommon thing to be concerned with this. Yet here am I, concerned with it. I haven't been on a run in almost two weeks. 

Tomorrow morning, I hope to conquer my concern. I hope my friends believe my reasons.


Flying Tongue

This post will be short.

Yes, that's possible.

I only want to say that I don't cuss often. For comedic effect only, usually.

But when I run, especially when I run with my 9-month-old dog, you should probably plug your ears.

Most of it is directed at the dog, and I'm glad she loves me anyway.

That's all.


Running (To and Fro)

I've been doing a lot of writing. Not for a book. Not for a blog. 
I've been writing to run toward and run away.

It's a strange thing to admit that I've been talking to God in an effort to avoid hearing something from Him. I don't think He's going to tell me what I fear He will, but I was (am) filling silences just in case. 

He told me something in August that is ambiguous. I like clarity and certainty, because I like being in control. So now I'm waiting for the time He said to wait for, and flying between peace and restlessness in the mean time. 

What's been grand about waiting this time around is how I am beginning to own my emotions and distinctly feel each one. 
What's been less-than-stellar about waiting this time around is the extremity of each of those emotions. The time I'm waiting for will be cause for revelry or collapse. Not in the extremest of those extremes, no, not in the sense that I will be made or destroyed, simply overwhelmed for a time with joy or heartache. 

And of course, since I am a woman living in the age of Disney and Darcy, I may be building this up a tad.

I am trying to not glamorize anything in my mind, and not produce my own film of the outcomes. Some days are better than others. 

I'm both running to and from all that.

This phase of my life finally feels temporary and hopeful. 

I'm trying to run to Washington, DC. I want to go to graduate school for business there, ideally. 

I'm trying to run at least 3 times a week even though I don't have a race looming in front of me. 

I can easily run a mile. That's nice.