I wanna talk about running, but I don’t really know what to say. I run. I like it. The solitude. The freedom. The movement. The sense of accomplishment. The adrenaline that produces a sense of euphoria–like everything is right with the world. It’s my alone time–my time to think, pray, or just clear my head.
I’m not fast, but I don’t care. I have run in a few 5K races, but just to stay motivated. I have no intention of ever winning–although if I could find a race of mostly sedentary senior citizens, I might be able to best them.
One 20 minute run burns approximately the same amount of calories as a serving of Twizzlers. (Unfortunately, I never eat just one “serving” of Twizzlers–one “bag” maybe…)
Here’s what I imagine I look like when I run~~
This is probably closer to the why I really look–haha! jk. I don’t look like Homer Simpson. At least I hope not.
If I’m being completely honest, I don’t always love it. Sometimes it’s hard and I have to force myself to start…or keep going. It’s a mental game. “to the end of the block”…”five more minutes”….”I said I was running 3 miles, so I HAVE to run 3 miles”…etc. But I have seen the rewards–the weight loss, the muscle tone, the increased energy, so I KNOW it is worth it. I KNOW it without a doubt in my mind, so I push forward. I will never quit. Never!
















