I struggled to see through my foggy sunglasses and keep my knees from quivering as I stomped laboriously after my friend, the triathlete and fitness freak. 

 

"You can set the pace," he said kindly, slowing down to a crawl.  The moms and baby carriages whizzed past us.  It was a perfect morning at Mission Bay - not a cloud in the sky, cool bay breeze, and sweaty muscled men out in full force.  Unfortunately the scenery couldn't keep my mind off the screaming pain in my cramping calves, which had endured some hefty uphill battles the day before, or that I was up this early on a non-work or class day to inflict pain on myself.

 

Growing up, I was always the kid picked last for teams in P.E. and the shrimp of the class.  I resigned myself to the fact that I did not inherit athletic genes and would never be able to reach the bar on the shuttle without standing on a seat.  But eight months ago I was inspired.  To run 8K (5 miles), the longest distance I had ever run.  And it felt GREAT.  I may not have the genes, but I do have will power!  For me, it's a way to prove to myself that I might actually be athletic.  Or at least that I have the determination and slight craziness to do what more athletic people aren't willing to do.

 

Running is one of the few sports that almost anyone can do, that we all do naturally.  No special equipment or skill or training needed, besides shoes, unless you want to be really good.  Still doable even if you don't have agility, coordination, or speed.  Sounds like my kind of sport!

 

So.  That is why I am training to run in the 10K race for this Thanksgiving's Run for the Hungry, and the Carlsbad Half Marathon in January.  Being the amazing planner that I am, I ran 11 miles over 3 days after months of being a couch potato and a lifetime of being slow and clumsy.  Meanwhile Fitness Boy, who was bit by the race bug at the same 8K race, has completed his first triathlon, and has an upcoming Olympic-distance triathlon and two half marathons.  The 10K will be like a regular workout for him.

 

As we turned to head back to the car at the two mile marker, I suddenly felt glad that I was out early on a beautiful day on a run with a friend, no matter how masochistic it was.  I pushed my aching legs forward, weezed through my nose and reminded myself that running is a mind game.  Must.  Shuffle.  On. 

 

Four miles today.  And even with the killer calves and sweaty clothes we ran to the playground and jumped on the swings.  There is nothing better than feeling weightless after pounding yourself into the ground for 40 minutes, except feeling like a kid who has nothing to do all day but run around and play on the swing set with her friend.