My husband -- fellow teacher, soccer coach, gamer, so totally not a runner -- hands me this book that he apparently bought at some point but decided to ignore. Our oldest spent the final two school days of last week studying hard and making changes and has already improved his grade in Spanish. He likes the changes; he is proud of himself; he is, after only two days, a different young man. I stare at the book. "Your turn," my husband says, "Time to make good on your end of a bargain."
The boys - my husband and our two sons - head out to the park to play soccer on this ridiculously beautiful and warm January day while I begin reading about running. Fortunately, I am not intimidated by what I read. Forget my next door neighbor's recent marathon finish, forget my friends / soccer moms who are well in to their 5K, 10K, and Half adventures. I read and actually start to think that I can at least do what it asks of me for the first week. I'm not overweight; I'm not inactive; I'm not lazy; I'm not unhealthy -- I just don't like the thought of running. But, the first week asks me to merely walk for 30 minutes, 4 days during the week. I'm starting to think I might actually be able to rise to this challenge.
The book tells me to think about a four day running plan, and I decide upon a schedule of Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, Sunday. I find a new notebook and write it down. Suddenly I am committed; starting Tuesday I will be on my way to becoming a runner. Why is it that I'm not dreading the-start-of-the-work-week-Monday so much as I am the day after?
As I progress through the book, I am forced to recognize that while I am not overweight I certainly don't have the body I did pre-kids and pre-40. A quick thought about the lunches I recently packed my husband and me (not only fellow teacher, but also fellow colleague) I know I am perhaps lazier and less healthy than I'd like to admit. I'm sort of embarrassed by my inability to recognize that I have settled into a happy complacency, but that awareness is now.
An hour later I have a grocery list -- dinner will be marinated skirt steak with rice pilaf and asparagus; lunch will be leftover meat with sauteed onions and peppers on a whole wheat tortilla. Snacks will include string cheese and grapes. I dare say I find my cheeks flushed and my adrenaline high. I sort of have hope. I think this just might happen -- if only I have the real courage to start.
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