The Things My Heart Decides

I'm not a runner.  Well, I wasn't a runner.  Okay, that's not entirely true either.  I ran in high school, but mostly because anyone (everyone) could join the track team.  No embarrassing, possible esteem- crushing try-out required.  So, I ran.  Then, I ran a little in college.  Only because I was too miserly to throw money into a gym pass.  But once graduation came - the running left.

Then, I got married.  And G Mac wanted to run.  So, we started running in the morning.  And I got injured.  "Self-inflicted whiplash" is what the MD termed it.  Seriously?  Terribly true.  Inflicted while trying to dodge an early morning sprinkler that got the best of me.  Hence, running left again.  But this time, it left for a LONG time.

In fact, I started talking like I'd never run in my life ... "I'm not a runner," I'd say.  Don't get me wrong, I had great admiration for runners, marathoners, 5Kers ... and the like.  But, for me, it became an eye-rolling, never-in-my-life-would-I-do-that-to-my-body type of activity.  I'd rather elliptical or spin my body into submission.  Or even walk ... but run?  Nah.

So, imagine my almost disgust, when two plus months ago, I'm driving along the freeway, singing to the radio, casually viewing the varied billboards and of a sudden my heart does a double-flip, my stomach fills with a thousand butterflies and my mind takes on a strange, but sweet sense of anticipation.   I try to shake it off, visibly shaking my head and inwardly screaming, "Are you crazy?"  But the feeling comes stampeding back when I look again to see the giant ad picturing a silhouetted runner against a sunlit mountain range.  And along the bottom ran the words in white -  Utah Valley Marathon.

I'm pretty good at dismissing thoughts and feelings that my mind deems partially insane.  And I followed suit with this odd experience.  I didn't even tell my husband - which, if you know me, that's truly saying something (I tell the poor guy everything)!  But the blasted feelings would randomly resurface.  Especially when G Mac started training for a triathlon sprint.  Though, he did most of his training during his lunch hour, I could see and sense the change in his demeanor and those nasty butterflies would come back (yes, I realize that most of those intestinal flutterings were of the I-love-this-guy variety - but my mind was fairly certain the a portion could be attributed to the not so welcome you-need-to-run-again kind).

What totally did me in though was when I surfed over to a friend's blog and the recent post was titled, "Considering a Half."  It took me half a second to decide to call her.  When I did,  I told myself that I was just going to ask her about it.  But when I said, "Are you really thinking about running another half?"  She said, "Yes!  Do you want to run it with me."  Sheesh ... hook, line and sinker ... I committed.  To be truthful, I knew that my heart had already committed itself that day on the freeway (note that I seemingly have no control over what my heart sometimes decides on its own - that's only happened one other time - insert smiley face).

We started training this week.  The first day I thought I would DIE.  I put on a brave face (I think).  But inside, I was saying "What am I doing ... and why in the world am I doing it?"  Luckily, I have a pretty strong heart and an incredibly vivid memory.  So, the minute those questions flew to mind, I could see the billboard again.  And, surprise of surprises - it feels great!  I mean really great.  So now I guess I'm a runner.  And the littles think I'm awesome (how's that for a great, but unexpected byproduct of my heart's executive decision)!!

Just so you know, I'm really not crazy - so, obviously I'm starting with a half.  But someday, I plan to be that silhouetted runner in the Utah Valley Marathon.  I wonder what my heart will think of then.