For the past month, I have been sick. Sinus infection, bronchitis, flu, the pneumonia. Yup- wonderful!
Because of all the germ visitors I have had, it has been hard to make it to visit my beloved friend the "dreadmill". To sum it up when you can't breathe - you can't run.
But then last week I had a bit of a spurt. I have made it four times. One day I can ever kicked butt. But then, then came yesterday.
It had (for no reason in particular) been a bit of a long day with the gaggle of children I have. Just bits of bickering and nothing accomplished. I was so frustrated. Instead of drowning my sorrows in Girl Scout Tagalongs - I loaded them up for a late afternoon run. I put on my bright green Savannah Half Marathon shirt, some leggings and off we went!
It was a great first 20 minutes. Dave Matthews was singing right to me, the world was mine to own. Then he showed up.
All muscles, the agility of a large gazelle - he was a machine. And even though there was 50 open treadmills, he has to come right.next.to.me! Seriously, did he really need that ego boost for the day?
Anyway, I did great keeping up with him. Although I am sure that my leggings riding up, my shorts bunching up and the sweat poring down my tired face did not give the appearance that the hulk and I were in the same zone.
Feeling well accomplished (even if in my own mind), I departed the treadmill and headed downstairs to "stretch" (which is really code for checking facebook on my phone while sitting on a mat).
I was downstairs when I ran into a fellow mom from school. You know the kind of mom who always says what is on her mind no matter what? I have been told that I, "look like hell, did you just crawl out of bed, I can't believe you made it here." All by the same mom. Meeting her after my successful treadmill encounter was torture.
Pleasant hellos were first. Then, just like I thought, came the bombshell. She looked at my shirt (the one I earned for completing my first half marathon under my projected time). Then from her mouth came the line, "did you actually finish that race? I wouldn't peg you to be able to do that."
I was in shock. No, I really wasn't. I did a half pivot turn to flip my ponytail her way and with a sly, yet cutesy, voice I replied, "yup, I finished - I know, I think I am a bad ass too."
Instead of walking casually away, I skipped the entire way out of the gym.