A Sissy Jogger Is Born!

Does this mean I have to wipe the chap stick off the rim of my wine bottle?

Better yet, let's just begin.

I've NEVER been a runner, unless you count the times I used to race my Dad in the yard as a kid. We'd be finished with a project like planting a tree or working in the garden and decide it was time to go in. We would then both look up at the house at the top of the hill, then at each other, and take off like bats out of hell - me squealing like the sissy I am and him lithely sprinting
like a gazelle.

Those days have long passed, but I do still fancy myself somewhat of an athlete. I envision myself being able to walk for days, or do heavy lifting like installing windows, but again, those days have passed as well.

So I'm not ancient, but I'm 34. I have born three beautiful children and for that my body has suffered. Where once I felt myself indestructible, pregnancy brought me to me knees, and facing death.

Luckily, those days, too, have passed, though not as long ago.

So I saw it fit to shake my angry fist at the havoc pregnancy played on me and began walking again. The summer months and a triple jogger stroller saw me through my first 10K and then my first Half Marathon.

Triumph! Success! Tah Dah!

But wait.

You see where this is going. The Sissy Jogger. Walking is no longer enough. It is time to tackle the ugly beast that is running. I hate it. Abhor it. Spit on it - pwhua!

But it is inevitable - at 34 it is time to tackle the beast and push forward one more step. You know my Dad didn't start running until he was in his early 30's?

So this is my blog, to pour my silly sissy jogging soul into . . . my training, my progress, my setbacks. Welcome.