Deluged

I'm truly impressed with myself. I've been running for a month now, training for that 5K. I've not stuck with running this long since I was in high school.

After I got home on Wednesday and changed into my running clothes, the heavens opened up and dumped down a deluge of rain. I have neither a gym membership or a treadmill, so I shocked even myself and headed out for a jog anyways. Halfway through, I realized none of the gutters had drains and the water pooling on the sides of the road proved to be dangerous; at one point I was slogging through ankle-deep, shivering, my clothes sticking to my body, rain running down my face. I went home.

But you know what?

It's okay I went home. I'm so proud of myself for trying, even though I hate getting unnecessarily wet in the rain (Wicked Witch, anyone?).

Today, I tried running along the golf course trail behind my house--quite possibly the most awful experience of my life. The view of the cityscape is beautiful, but the wind was blowing so hard, I could have leaned into it and not fallen. And of course, all of my intervals were perfectly placed to have me run up rocky hills exactly midway through the interval. And you, my friends, know how truly uncoordinated I am (in college, my dance teacher remarked I have the feet of a dancer, but not the grace).

But you know what?

I finished all four of my intervals. Yes, it sucked and yes, I almost vomited during my last five minutes (eating a burrito smothered in green chile before running is not a good idea). But I finished.

I'm really doing this. In public. My ass jiggling in front of strangers as I run (practically in slow-motion, sometimes!) by them. Panting. Sometimes feeling like I'm dying. But I'm really doing this.