I’ll admit it, I’ve been MIA. Big time! You probably read this title and think, “we get, it, we get it, you’re busy—more like, are we there yet?!” (Is this really how you treat me when I’ve been gone so long? I expected more of all of you…). Deadlines, time crunches, and papers aside, I have a bigger problem than school/work/real life (pick one). I am running out of time. No, really! Or maybe I should say, I’m running out of running time.
Remember my running relationship? It’s the classic story of girl-meets-Nikes, conquers more than she can ever thought possible, and the two live happily ever after. I’ve completed two half marathons; running makes me feel strong, and healthy, and on top of the world (and slightly more confident come bikini season). All that “I am woman hear me roar” bull shit. That’s me! So naturally, fresh off my latest accomplishment in November, it seemed natural to sign myself up for the Pittsburgh Half Marathon. Back to where it all began, but this time, with my boyfriend, sister-in-law, and brother. Ahh, to be young, naïve and full of hope.
If my presence here is any indicator of how upside down my life has been this semester, you can imagine that my last two months have been fueled by buckets of coffee, a roller coaster of emotions, and many a 'breathe in a paper bag so I don’t pass out' moments. I have a new appreciation for those who work full time, attend school, and manage to weigh less than 350 lbs. My “training” (I don’t even think you can call it that) has been dwindled down to a mere 3-4 days a week, 2 of which typically fall on Saturday and Sunday, so we all know how that goes. I’ve tried many a morning to drag my butt out of bed just an hour early so I’m not left with the 5:45pm guilt of knowing that my muffin top is getting larger, and my goal time is dwindling towards just “completion.” But, guys, nothing will get me out of bed. Coffee ready and brewing? Nope. Alarm clock on the other side of the bed? Get up, snooze. Have to get up to go to the bathroom anyways? Pee and its back to bed. I’m a lost cause and may never be that morning goddess who radiates sunshine at 6:00am during my 8 mile morning jog.
But, the reality is, I don’t have a choice. I’m running out of time. As my calendar displayed that scary number this morning ,“1”, I knew that I had
been shoved stepped into a new month; I’m officially 9 weeks out. Getting back here is a first step of sorts; making time for the things that matter, the things that make you feel good, which writing here does.
So here it goes, my 9 week resolution to GET MOVING!! Because, so help me God, if I’m passed by a pregnant woman or a woman with a baby stroller
again, things are gonna get real.