post about my running attempts? I haven't addressed the topic since then because there's really been nothing to say. I've failed...but not for lack of trying. I tried and I actually
really enjoyed it! It felt good pushing myself and developing endurance. But I haven't run at all since running was the cause of my
barely being able to walk.
My running stint lased for all of about 2.5 weeks before I developed pain in my lower legs that was practically debilitating. I had shooting pain that went from the inside of my knees all the way down into my feet. And not just when I ran. All. Day. Long. For days. And going up and down stairs? I may have scooted up and down on my butt a time or two. Yeah, it hurt. A lot. And then when it finally abated I was too scared to try running again for fear that I'd just end up in the same predicament. I mentioned this to a couple of runner friends and they said that the culprit is most likely my shoes. It was suggested that I go to have my footfall analyzed at a running specialty store, but I have yet to do so. Mainly because I'm cheap and don't want to spend $100+ on shoes that may or may not do the trick. Instead of becoming a lean mean running machine I feel like I'm becoming a slightly less grotesque female version of Jabba the Hut.
Gone are the days of the blessing of a hummingbird's metabolism. I used to be able to eat whatever I wanted and in whatever quantity suited me and not gain an ounce until my late 20's. I remember thinking
(and truly believing!) that I would never weigh 120 pounds unless I was pregnant. Sounds totally realistic, right? On my wedding day I weighed 126 pounds, and although 126 is more than 120 I was blissfully happy to be marrying Todd and was pretty happy with my body. After all, I was 32 years old and in relatively good shape.
Enter pregnancy x 2. Enter my late 30's. Enter being a stay at home mom who is within mere feet of the pantry most of the day. It's a recipe for disaster that shows on my face, thighs, arms, and stomach. Oh, my stomach! How can the food that tastes so good going down end up looking so bad on the bod afterward? It's just vicious.
So what I need to do is
step away from the pantry and
step on the elliptical machine (that we got for Christmas last year that collects dust) and
MOVE my big old self. I am totally fine with the fact that I will never weigh 120 pounds again or wear size 2 clothes. I have borne children and I'm stinkin' 38 years old (and I'm not Heidi Klum) so it shows. Wider hips, I've come to believe, are a mother's badge of honor. The muffin top and stretch marks? Not so honorable, but whatever...
And Santa, if you're reading this, some new running shoes might be nice.
