Run, Forrest, Run!

In what may be one of the most shocking turn of events EVER, I have started running. I know. It's just unbelievable.

I needed another form of exercise for the physical fitness portion of the Congressional Award, and since I was already doing Zumba, I picked running. Zubma sidenote- I went to Zumba at the post gym and who do you think decided to join us for an hour of hip-shaking and arm-waving??? A drunk man. A drunk man and his sober but still slightly annoying posse of 7 other husbands who were there because they lost a bet to their wives. I can't even talk about it any more.

The first morning I went to the track was mostly uneventful. I don't like running when others are watching ("watching" means they are anywhere within 5000 feet of me even if they aren't paying attention) so I didn't do much actual running, but it was a start. In all honesty, the other people on the track weren't the only reason I didn't run 45 miles. I feel like I'm going to die every time I run and that's generally a feeling I like to avoid. I know people who listen to the Bible or sermons while they run, but the most holy thoughts I have while I run are prayers that I won't die. I'll die when I am meant to die, I'd just prefer to go in a more dignified fashion than sprawled out on a track while wearing my sneakers.

Things were getting a little better in the Running While Others Are Watching department until the day I almost LITERALLY bumped  into the Fort Lee marching band. I don't know where they came from because they weren't there then ALL THE SUDDEN THEY WERE. I've made a little illustration to demonstrate:

I slowed down to let them pass in front of me (I pretended to be very intent on staring at my ipod) but then, apparently obeying some command from Mr. Conductor, they slowed down to let me pass. That was not part of my plan. I had planned for them to cross the track over to the grassy part in the middle. So there we were, both walking   v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y so as to not interrupt the other party. Eventually I decided that unless somebody did something drastic, we were going to stay like this all day. I had no other choice but to run in front of them. I have always (always as in since last month) said that I wouldn't run in front of soldiers and there I was, running 85 yards 12 feet right in front of 16 of them.

It didn't take me long to realize that their direction of marching while they practiced matched my direction of walking/running. Each time I turned, they turned also. I just couldn't get away from them! I've made another illustration for your benefit.

I did very little running that day. 

At least I can comfort myself with the knowledge that I must have worked out hard enough because I certainly did not look cute at the end.