Foiled again

Running and I have a long and sordid history, mostly in my head as opposed to on the track, road or treadmill, but let us not digress.

When I was a young thing I always wanted to be an athletics star.  I would join the athletics team every year and fervently leap the hurdles, sure that I must have grown some more fast-twitch muscle fibres in 12 months.  It was never to be, those fast twitch fibres just didn’t come in as I had hoped they would.

Fast forward 15 years and I began running regularly with a friend.  This was back when I was a SAHM so I could do such things you see.  We would run, even UP HILLS!  One hill.  But it was a big hill.  I enjoyed that running and never had an injury.

Then I lapsed.

Then we moved away from that hill.

Then I paddled a stupid kayak on a river and messed up my back.

So skip ahead some more years and here we are.  I ran tw0 5ks  in the weekend.  At the urging of Dave very early on Saturday morning we ran together and Ethan rode his bike 85% of the way without protest, I was quite amazed.  It felt good and I felt good.  So good in fact that at 7am on Sunday I suggested that we run again!  It was surprising to me too, especially seeing as the night before was date night {I like wine FYI}!

So that was the end of that.  Within thirty minutes of getting home my back had seized like I had been struck by a bus and had become so tender to the touch that I couldn’t sit in a chair!  I won’t give up this time however, I am determined that I can be one of those people that run, that enjoy running and that can maybe be called a RUNNER.

Until then, I will be perfecting my play-list and shopping for shoes.

Run along now.

 


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Melissa

I live in rural Auckland, New Zealand. Two boys, one big, one not so big and 2 boy dogs belong to me and I them. I love Coca Cola in all of its sugar-less forms and I love you internet. I take way too many pictures of my kids and collect them all here. This is what I am doing when I should be cleaning or cooking or doing other 'useful' things.

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