Dear sweet little Mountain Brook family, with your perfectly coiffed yard, I am sorry for the pink tank top I threw in your azalea bushes. I am sorry that it is sopping wet from my sweat, but I threw it there in a state of desperation. You see, I was at mile 15 of my 16.8 mile run, and I had learned that my body was not made for such extremes. I was on the verge of tears from exhaustion. My legs felt like they were made out of an extremely dense brand of putty. I had a stitch in my side, limiting my already difficult breathing, from the Mountain Dew I had just chugged in a last ditch effort to take in some glucose and finish the d*$! thing. And that shirt, well, it felt like it weighed ten pounds, and I couldn’t bear to let my running partners carry the nasty thing–like they were begging me to let them do. A girl, who has had two babies and is watching her left-over baby pooch jiggle in front of her as she jogs through Mountain Brook, has to hold on to some last stitch of pride. So, I refused to let them hold it, and I chucked it into your bushes. I’m sorry. I’ll be riding by later this afternoon, when I have enough strength to move my legs, and if it is still there I’ll relieve you of it. Abby
I would like to tell you about one major perk that comes from long-distance running. I have not lost a single pound. Are you all gasping in horror? I am glad that isn’t the reason I started this jazz, cause I’d be jumping ship about now, but I’ll be honest, I was hoping it was going to be a natural by-product. So, I haven’t lost any weight, but I feel so much more confident about my body. It’s weird, but it’s like this: If I am running this far and pushing my body this hard, then this must be the way I am supposed to look. Take it or leave it, this is me in shape. It feels really, really good.
I’d like to tell you one major negative about long-distance running too (at least for me). It does a NUMBER on your stomach. I spend all the morning after our long runs…and sometimes longer, worried to leave the close vicinity of my own potty. I have always had an iron-coated stomach; I eat what I want and things keep on tickin‘. But suddenly I understand all of you out there with “nervous stomachs.” And the even stranger part, is that rarely does anything actually…happen (this is turning into a simply lovely post), I just feel like something is going to.
And on that note, I’ll leave you. Here’s a picture of my sweet girls, just so you know they are still alive too. I did finally make it to the camera store this week, and wouldn’t you know they turned me away immediately because the don’t “deal with” Kodak products. You’d think, in this economy, a specialty camera store would deal with any kind of camera they could get their hands on.