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I want to be that person again..

Monday, November 26, 2012

It looks like, by reading various blogs, everyone had a good holiday weekend, and no one is wigging out too much about eating too much. Let's classify this a WIN!

We had a good holiday, quiet really. I didn't get out of my jammies at all on Thursday LOL I can cook just as well in my jammies as I can in fancy dress, so might as well be comfy.
Friday, we took the Lovebirds for their first vet check-up and were proud birdy parents. The vet likes them very much, said they're in great shape and are neat little birds - none of which has anything to do with us other than we've kept them alive for a week.
Saturday I took a class at OHS learning how to use various walking tools on different dogs, then picked up my packet for the Hot Buttered Run on Sunday.

It was the drive home that poked a sharp bony finger into my well-padded ribs.
"Look. Look down there," the quiet voice said as I drove along I-205 from Vancouver to Portland.
"There it is," the quiet voice pointed out.
I looked. I longed. I yearned even.

Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've y~e~a~r~n~e~d? Like, for reals?

The picture, not my own, does not do it justice. It's a paved trail that winds along, the Columbia on one side, the Portland Airport on the other. Bill and I walked it one Saturday when I was getting ready for the Portland Half. I've walked and run along it before.

There's something thrilling, to me, to be moving along the trail, walking or running, and hear a plane come in to land. It roars up, loud and reverberating within your chest, as it nears its destination. You can turn, twist, watch as it soars overhead, seemingly floating, going far too slow to actually remain in the air, and yet there it is, sailing over your head and disappearing behind the curve of the next rise.

I miss that. The quiet voice reminded me that that simple pleasure is there, waiting for me.
"You know you want to," it murmured to me, softly.
It's true, it's right. I do want to. I want to be the person who goes for a run along the Columbia, in the cold pale light of morning. I want to be that person again. I want to feel better, I want to look better for myself, for my own peace of mind.

I can sit and complain that I'm too tired.
I can get up and move, so I'm not as tired anymore.
I can sit and consume far too much X, Y, or Z.
I can get up and fuel my body appropriately for what I want to do.

Sunday, I participated in the Hot Buttered Run. I enjoyed it. I interval'd the first mile, walked the second, and interval'd the last mile to finish. I need more hill work, and this race reminded me of that. My finish time wasn't the best, nor the worst. I finished upright and I had fun doing the race. That's what matters.

After that, Bill and I zipped home, got on our 'farmer brown' duds and headed back to OHS to work on the walking path maintenance. There were far too many soggy spots during the last rainy spell, so we filled them in with mulch and hopefully it won't be quite so swampy for the two-leggers and four-leggers who use the path.

All in all, a good weekend. A desire was re-ignited within me to be the kind of person who finds joy in running along a river. There's no way I can complain about that.
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