"Mom come into my room," Stella bellows. I roll over to see it's 6:14am. "It's too early," I cautiously respond wondering if ignoring her would have been better. And miraculously I'm not pulled out of bed until 6:42am. I'll put that down as a win. Roll forward three hours Stella is at school, Jason is at work, and I'm hitting the pavement. Newton u-distance shoes, wool socks, compression tights, three core layers, fancy runner gloves and hat, and my tunes. Freezing temperature, you're mine. Snow and sometimes mysterious hidden ice patch sidewalks, I got you. I'm running my first marathon this year and I'm tired of the crappy weather and a quick spell of crappy health getting in the way.
I love being active as much as I love being lazy, though neither get enough time in my day quite frankly. My friend Erin and I started a runner's club in elementary school. I would get up early and run a mile around the soccer field with Erin. There was a fancy gold star chart that earned us bragging rights, except nobody else was impressed. And I ran cross country until high school when dance took center stage. But for the past 20 years running has always been my secondary exercise at best.
That changed for 2014. I've definitely caught the bug and can't wait to complete the Marine Corps Marathon with my brother Spencer by my side come October. But the harsh D.C. winter had sidelined my running and my outlook for the past two weeks. Lets not go over board here, but I was getting a little depressed.
Today's run felt significant. In my text to Jason and Spencer I called it epic. I beat the weather and arrived back home just over an hour from when I'd started and 6.8 miles later. When I run I feel accomplished and I love me more. The solitude amongst the busy city hones my awareness and my gratitude for what I can do. And that is an even bigger win than snagging those final 28 minutes of sleep this morning.