I remember in high school, in between classes, thinking to myself "I wonder how badly I can injure myself to not have to participate in gym class today?" yet still be able to make it rehearsals after school for the spring production of Sweet Charity that I was in. Yep, you guessed it, our gym teachers favorite season had begun.
It wasn't spring (well it was, but that's not the point here), nooo, it was track & field season!
Good lord, someone save me.
Better yet, have an ambulance on the field because at 15 I was going to have a heart attack because I was going to have a freaking STROKE!
This girl was not built for running. Not back then. Thirty years later, not now.
So, I started walking. Slowly I'm sure. For my husband. The MARATHONER.....the bastard. Who once said "Men run faster then women" as though it was a God given fact and is probably reading this right now nodding his head. He's going to get a Gibbs head slap if he doesn't stop (don't you dare look over your shoulder). I've always wanted to run, if for no other reason so that I can race him in a fair race and beat the socks off him. Yet, I've got to start somewhere. So here I am.
Walking.
As fast as I possibly can for as long as I can.
That is a half a mile in 10 minutes.
So for now, I'll do what I can do, but there will come the day when I run that race. It'll be a fair race. Both of us running for all we're worth. Him not throwing it either.
And I'm gonna kick his ass.
Because women can be just as fast as men.
Period.
And this one time fat chick will be an athlete.
Hey, it's a goal ain't it?
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