Posts Tagged With: Changes

I suck at this blogging thing…

A-true-relationship-is-having-someone-who-accepts-your-past-supports-your-present-loves-you-and-encourages-your-futureNot that this statement is shocking to anyone that has read this blog with any frequency. ๐Ÿ™‚ But I think I finally know why. I started this blog to kinda get outside of myself. I have struggled a long time with allowing people close enough to hurt me. Now, I realize that one’s instinct is to keep themselves safe, but I kept EVERYONE at least arm’s length. But at the same time, I would help anyone that I could, as often as I could. I thought this was being a good friend. Helping them carry their burdens while not burdening them with my own. But that is not true relationship. It’s a give and take. And I found as I began to let people in, that it was frustrating for them to be in relationship with me while I purposely held parts of myself to myself.

And it was a lonely place to be. While I was safe from any emotional harm, I also was no longer living life. I actually don’t know if I had ever lived life. And then I let go this perception of self preservation and began to open up. I started with those that were already my friends. I let them get closer. I shared struggles with them and let them help me, even if the help was nothing more than to listen. And it was difficult! So freaking difficult to do. As I spoke about whatever I was struggling about, I was also worrying on the inside of how they were perceiving me. I mean was I being petty? Did I blow things out of proportion? Was my friend sitting there thinking that I was just a huge loser? Turns out no. Well, most of the time. I am human. And I have honest friends ๐Ÿ˜‰

So I started this blog as an exercise to get out of my comfort zone. It started with the mundane (and often hysterical) training stories of my marathon training and then circuit training. And every once in a while, I put a little something personal on there, and I would just see the numbers skyrocket on views. (Oh, and one secret I’ve kept is that I could see the view count and search terms. Someone out there has been regularly searching out my blog but would never subscribe. I see you! ๐Ÿ˜‰ Ha!!)

And then those posts became more regular. And the more honest I became, the more it seemed to attract people’s attention. And never once did I receive anything negative. And this is the forum to do it. Complete anonymity!! But a fantastic thing seemed to happen in the process. The more I got used to opening up, the more I was not met with judgmental attitudes, the more I opened up. ย In real life. I worried less about the opinions of those that didn’t matter. I became transparent to those that I love and love me. I began to live a life with arms wide open. I began to simply live life.

Now I’m not saying that I have not been hurt in the process because I have. Deeply. There have been moments where I was convinced that I would be unable to claw my way back to the surface. But then I remembered that I didn’t have to do it alone. That I had people that were there to help me. That wantedย to help me. And then there were moments that I trusted people that weren’t who they presented themselves to be and I just had to let go of those relationships instead of trying to figure out the why of the situation.ย And as broken as my heart was, I bounced back. Some situations took longer than others, but I bounced back with the help of my friends.

And as I lived more transparently in my real life, I spent less time chronicling my shenanigans on here. ย Because I became busy. Busy living the life I was always meant to live. Enjoying the wonderfully genuine people that were placed in my path. Busy living the life I used to write about in this blog.

And in my times of need, I reached out for help. I began to shed this huge ego problem that I held so tightly to before ( <- I attribute this to Jiu Jitsu, btw). And man I’m a lucky girl! Because no matter the situation, the help was abundant. Whether it was deep, big problems or a mini sobfest in the middle of my bed, someone was there to care for me. With absolutely no judgement. Now I’m not perfect. I still struggle with opening up. But those same people that are there to support me also support me by gently reminding me that I am being a stubborn ass. ๐Ÿ˜‰ I’m a work in progress. ๐Ÿ™‚

So I think I know why I now suck at this blog thing. It’s because I no longer suck at this thing called life. So like other things in my life that were only meant to be in my life for a season, I am saying goodbye to this blog.

~~Til we meet again (in real life)

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Day 6: What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced

Day 6

Note to self: Next time I create one of these, pick light-hearted material.ย I guess the goal was to not only write but to also stretch myself but stiiiiiiiiill… Alright enough of the whining. ๐Ÿ™‚

Day 6: What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced

Honestly, I could pick a number of things to write about, but if I am being completely honest, I know which one it is.

Love is a funny thing sometimes. It is something that can lift you up, carry you through the most difficult of days. It can also rip you to your core. And the worst you will feel will sometimes come from those that you love the most. I guess it is because those are the ones that you open up to the most. You are your most vulnerable and therefore the heartache comes easier.

urlOkay, I’m stalling ๐Ÿ™‚ but I guess the hardest thing I’ve experienced is also one of the hardest to write about. So not too long ago, yesterday really in my mind, I walked away from love. It was both the most logical and illogical decision I made. We both loved each otherย immensely. I had no doubt about that. Not for a second. But lordie were we just poison for one another.

We played this game of back and forth for many years. We lived a life of extremes. I love you. I hate you. You are my everything. You mean nothing to me. Don’t ever leave. Don’t ever come back. It was honestly very exhausting. But love will make you do stupid things. The last time was our longest consecutive time together and was probably the most painful.ย That time, we finally admitted that we loved each other.

When we met, we were so over relationships. We’d both been burned one too many times. At 32, I’d decided that I didn’t want to deal with relationships anymore. Thoughts of someday marrying someone??? Oh, hell no. I was done! Sad when I think about it, that at 32, I’d already given up. But I was so tired of hurting. My thought was if I just kept my distance, from men, from people in general, then I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of loss ever again.

And then I meet him.

We were like magnets. In every sense. There were times that we were just drawn together. I can’t put my finger on precisely why but if we were anywhere near each other, we would run into each other. Now, I live in a big city. It’s easy to get lost here if you want to. Didn’t seem to work with him. Then there were other times that, just like magnets, being anywhere near each other repelled us, shooting us in opposite directions.

Like I said, we did this for many years. Some of the pain I have chronicled here deal with him. We were together so long that there isn’t much in my life that doesn’t reminds me of him. Movies. Songs. My favorite artist we discovered together at another artist’s concert. I have a lot of good memories from our time together.

I also have a lot of gut-wrenching, pain-filled memories as well. The worst come from our last month together. It finally became too much. I made the decision to leave. It took a couple of tries but in the end, I did. And it honestly was the best decision I made when it came to our relationship. I had become an enablerย (<– perfect example at this post) to his bad behavior and bad decisions. I lost all my glitter and sparkle to try to make something work that was never meant to.

So I made one of the hardest decisions in my life. I walked away from the one person outside of my family that I loved the most.

I will say that thanks to that relationship, I am no longer cynical and closed off. I have plenty of reason to but today, I choose walk another path. I’m young. Too young to give up on life and love. I’m not actively seeking it out, but I am no longer sitting in my house, closed off to the world in an attempt to stay safe. I take any opportunity to live and make memories. Right now, they are with the best friends a person can have and with my precious children. And when it happens, I hope I am open enough to recognize it and embrace it. I just have to keep remembering that beautiful flowers do not grow in the absence of rain.

~~Til the next time…

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Addiction

“I thought we were a f*cking fairytale. But if you’re careless with something for long enough, you know, it breaks. And that’s how I feel. Broken. Completely and utterly broken.” –Karen

I’m not going to post this on Facebook. Hell, I don’t know if I will even publish this. I know this will automatically go to those that have subscribed to this strange little blog if I do, and that I am okay with, but I feel I should write this. I guess I just need to get it out of my head.

Right now, I am watching the 4th season of Californication. I love this show because first, the writing is fantastic. (If you haven’t seen it and you have delicate sensibilities, I suggest you avoid it. It is one of the more cruder shows out there.) Another reason I watch it tho, is in a way, it feels familiar. I’ve dealt with my Hank Moody’s. Yes, plural. I will say that none to the extent that Showtime shows, at least as far as I know, but the pain was all the same. I connect with Karen, his long time girlfriend. I hurt for her. I get angry with her. And I sit and wonder why.

For those not familiar, David Duchovny’s character, Hank Moody, is a sex addict, among other things. When you watch him, you learn he can’t really say no to anything. Drugs, alcohol, other people’s whims. He just does, as if on autopilot, seemingly oblivious to the pain he causes the people around him. Until that pain interrupts his life, causes him pain as well. And then you get to see a side of him that is broken, empty and screaming for something, a something that can’t be named.

And then I feel for him. My heart breaks for this adolescent trapped in a man’s body. Duchovney plays this character well, most certainly because of his own familiarity, and you get to see this side that people not closely involved rarely get to see. But I did. I know why Karen leaves and comes back. I’ve experienced others see a great guy, my great guy, and wonder why I’m angry and hurting. I’ve experience having to try and explain to my friends why I stay, why I go back when he’s hurt me so much. I’ve gotten to the point of breaking and vowed to never look back and then go running back into the same arms that shattered my heart, to give him “one more try”.

But there is just such a selfishness to addiction that can not be ignored. As many moments as I had of enjoying the kind, sweet person everyone else saw, I had many more where it was a “my way or the highway” kind of thinking. Sometimes I stayed, sometimes I left. Each time, tho, my heart broke a little more. And then I got to the point that I had nothing left to break. I remember those moments of feeling hollow as I said the words “I’m done”. I got to the point of being all “try’d” out.

In the middle of one of these relationships, I decided to start going to counseling. I was a mess. I honestly had no idea who I was. My identity became enmeshed in the battle of being a co-addict. Of hating what was going on and doing nothing to stop it. I sat in self pity and silence. I told no one of my struggles and I just let people assume whatever they wanted about me because I didn’t want anyone to “hate” him. I was just as sick as he was. I eventually left. I realized that you can’t help someone that doesn’t want it, or worse, doesn’t even realize he needs it.There was no magical person I could pretend to be that would make the situation better. His problem was not my problem to fix.

But self discovery is not about perfection. I found myself moving onto a relationship that was better but was still the same. I silenced myself to keep the peace. I walked on eggshells and lied about how bad it really was so that he didn’t feel bad about it. Thankfully, I realized it a lot faster than I had in the past and walked away, but not without scars.

Scars that ache when I watch this show because I am not just a viewer. I know this reality. I was Karen. I had my Hank. We had friends that played the roles like they do in this show.

Why do I watch, then? Because it’s everywhere. I can avoid this one show that screams of a problem that surrounds us, but that is the truth. It surrounds us. Remember Tiger? He wasn’t just a manwhore. He was a broken shell of a man that resembled someone of great confidence and power. And there are millions more like him that will never see their shame displayed on the tabloids for all to see.

I can run from a painful past, but then how do I celebrate the person I am today? That pain shaped me. The pain of my past allows me to fully celebrate the good I have today. It helps me appreciate the great relationships I have right now. It pushes me to appreciate authenticity as opposed to perfection. It gives me a greater sense of what true happiness really feels like.

So, I will watch. I will continue to face my anger and pain while watching a show I genuinely enjoy. And I will heal a little more everyday.

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Who are you when I’m not looking?

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve had some very curious incidents that have sprouted up that reminded me about a blog posting that I had read a couple of months ago. I’ve actually gone back and forth on writing this posting because I wondered about how people would perceive thisย  but then I remembered that I really am not one that is too worried about perception and ironically, the incidents all have to do with perception so here goes. ๐Ÿ™‚

Single is just where I find myself these days. And by single, I mean I am not married, nor am I living with anyone. I am dating someone, though.

That has seemed to cause a stir within some people. And not how I would have thought. Here is a little excerpt of the blog that I reread this morning which you can find in its entirety here. I think it explains the phenomenon I’m facing right now the best. The title of the post is Domestic Enemies of the Single Mom. Enjoy! ๐Ÿ™‚

Next on deck, the evil Married who is threatened by our very presence and is a judgment filled B from the time you first meet her. Sheโ€™s usually found at school functions and neighborhood block parties. She may smile and say hello but she secretly believes that the big S you wear on your chest is not for Super Woman, which it is, but instead for her much more sinister twin sister, Super Slut. The Scarlet Letter Marrieds will go out of their way to avoid you for fear that your singlemomness is contagious or that you may eat men, or more specifically, their men. I believe in making nice though so to win these particular Marrieds over just smile and sweetly mention how handsome their husband is. Just kidding. No Iโ€™m not. OK so itโ€™s not nice but you totally catch more stuck up self righteous flies with honey. I was raised in the south so of this I am certain, we have manners.

The rest of the blog is filled with stuff written much in the same manner as the above, all of which I agree with it. As off kilter as my filter is, it still catches some of the things I probably should keep to myself. This girl lets it all hang out and for that, I am grateful. ๐Ÿ™‚

So now my perspective. First and foremost, I do not now, nor will I in the future, want your man. I can find my own, thank you very much. And I also live by “I do not date my friend’s ex’s or my ex’s friends”, which also includes the man you are currently dating. And second, singleness is not contagious. If I sneeze, the worst you may get is the flu, which sucks, but will not end in the destruction of your marriage. But I am finding out that there are some women who believe that one of these two scenarios could happen if they spent too much time with me.

I will not go into the specifics of the situations, but I can tell you I was shocked every time. The funny thing is that the person they see is not the person I actually am. For the most part, I am pretty put together with the crazy red hair and the makeup, clothes and heels. But the reality of who I am is that I would wear jeans and a t-shirt and my favorite pair of flip flops all day, everyday if I could. And as much as I can, I do. On Saturday mornings, I run errands with no makeup on and my hair in a ponytail or pulled through a ball cap and feel exactly as I would if I was fully done up. I am not here to impress anyone and honestly, I have neither the time nor energy to worry about it. If you like me, good. If you don’t, good. We weren’t all made to like one another and I’m okay with that.

And this self confidence that I walk around with came with years upon years of therapy and hard work. I got tired of being either Eeyore or a crazed lunatic so I made changes. And by no means am I anywhere near to being perfect. That day will never come. I could spend hours picking apart the tiny little things I don’t like about myself. Things most people are not aware of or could care less about, but that would mean regressing into a person I no longer want to be so I choose not to. But I will tell you, on my bad days, and yes I do have them, when I look in the mirror, I do not see the person anyone else sees. Hell, on my good days, I don’t either! And ask anyone that has had a real relationship with me, friends or lovers, I have flaws…in spades. Wanna know some? Google the song “Who are you when I’m not looking?” by Joe Nichols. About sums me up. ๐Ÿ™‚

So, no, I will not eat your man if he comes near me and no, your wedding ring will not instantly vanish if you brush up against me. But if you take the time to know me, really know me, we may end up great friends with a lot in common or at least somewhat friends that are excited to see each other once in a while. I guess the old adage is true…Never judge a book by its cover. To which I’d like to add…the pages are probably just as busted and torn as all the others. ๐Ÿ™‚

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loss & blog title change (more getting personal)…

These last couple of weeks have just happened to be filled with loss on very different levels, but loss none the less. One thing about me is that I thrive on consistency. I love the harmony of my very busy life. One wrong note though and it will throw me off completely. It can be something as little as missing boot camp (like this morning) and it throws my day off.

Well, about two weeks ago, a friendship ended, a week ago I found out that I can not run in the marathon and a few days later I learned that a sweet girl from work passed away. Last night, I received more news that has me worried. Hard. Very hard. To be honest, it felt like blows to the chest. It seemed that when I got my feet back underneath me, something else came around the corner. I spent the better part of two weeks spaced out, more to keep from getting emotional. Happy, I could do but to think of any of the above mentioned incidences left me of the verge of tears, if not actually crying, so I tried to not think about it. I did find moments to grieve each thing when I was alone but unfortunately for my sweet daughter, Kyle, sometimes a song on the radio would trigger the tears to fall. Thankfully I’m blessed and she would give me a hug and an “I love you” as a reminder.

With the loss of my chance to run the marathon, I had thought about ending this little blog, but I looked at it and realized that what started out as a blog about my marathon training has turned into something else. I’ve also found that I like recording little moments on this blog. The last blog I had, I downloaded and turned into a book to keep as kind of a memory book of last year. And even though I am not going to be able to run the marathon, there are still other things that I will be doing that provide enough fodder for this blog. Boot camp alone provides enough stories to share. And then there are moments like this where I choose to open up a little. I take it as more practice on my decision in my “Getting Personal” post of not keeping everything to myself. ๐Ÿ™‚ So now you know why My 1st Marathon has turned into Pieces of Randomness.

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What’s your favorite color?

I am the proud mother of girls. At the same time, I am convinced that I should have been the proud mother of boys. Why? Because as a woman, I think I have more testosterone than the average woman. I don’t like shopping. I love football, both college (Hook’em Horns!) and professional (Who Dat!). I am a little (teeny, tiny) bit competitive. Even my Words with Friends games can get a little bit stressful. I talk way too much smack, especially since I probably can’t back up most of what I’m saying. I can hang out with the boys and talk s**t and not feel the least bit out of place. I’ve had some say that they forget I’m a girl. Don’t know if that’s good or bad. ๐Ÿ™‚ I don’t do drama and I’m more of a pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move on kinda girl. But still a girl and a mother to girls.

So yesterday, I was telling a friend of mine about an encounter with one of my daughters. She was distraught over a lost relationship with a boy that she honestly barely knew. I was puzzled but tried to be supportive. I asked her why she was so upset. Her answer??

“BECAUSE WE WERE IN LOVE!!!!!”

Tears were streaming down her face. This was a boy that she knew for less than a month. Love?!?!? Okay. Me being the type of mother that I am, I asked the following question. Remember, I think that I am being supportive. And at the same time, I am wanting to impart a life lesson. Uh huh…this is going to go well.

ME: “Well, sweetie. What was this boy’s favorite color?”

HER: “What?”

ME: “What was his favorite color?”

HER: “I don’t know” (hands thrown in the air, eyes rolling)

ME: “Well, if you didn’t know something as basic as what his favorite color was, I just don’t think it was love.”

Supportive, huh??? I went on to tell her that loving someone was a special, precious thing that developed over time as two people learned more and more about each other and it was not like someone saying they loved spicy Cheetos. Can you feel the gentleness with which I was handling the situation? Yeeeeeeeah….

Well, I was telling my friend, Kris, about this conversation as we were walking to Starbucks yesterday to which she told me that her husband didn’t have a favorite color. I looked at her puzzled and thought, the man has NO preference towards color. As a painter, this thought baffled me. She must have picked up on that because she told me to text her husband to confirm this. I shot off the text and waited. My phone buzzed to alert me that I had received a text.

“Blue”

I turned my phone towards my friend and told her that she was in trouble. Her instant and very passionate reply was “He’s lying!” She told me that the only reason he told me a color was because he felt like he should. So then I sent off another text asking if that was actually his favorite color or if he felt the need to tell me a color because I asked. He told me that his colors were blue and black, in his words “the colors of pain”. HA!! You will have to read the rest on my friends blog here. It’s funny! In a nutshell, they have been together for 23 years and for the whole time, not only did she not know what his favorite color was, she wasn’t even aware that he had one. The best part of the whole ordeal was when she had me test his knowledge of her favorite color and without hesitation he named it off….red. She was so busted!! And slightly perturbed. I on the other hand found it hysterical! She tried to blow it off as being a natural phenomenon, but every friend we passed in the halls on our way back knew the answer to that question. I also had to poke fun at her expense and remind her that the guy that I had just started dating not only got me flowers, but got me flowers in burnt orange, the color of my favorite team…cuz he was paying attention. She was not happy with that little bit of information. ๐Ÿ˜‰

Now by no means am I saying that if you don’t know what your significant other’s favorite color is, you must not be in love. What I am saying is that if you don’t know the basics of what is important to the other person, I find it hard to believe that you love them. How do you know you love them when you don’t even know them?

Last thing…I know Kris and her husband and I KNOW those two love each other. I have pictures that I took of them without them knowing and you can see it all over their faces while they were talking to one another. She may not have known his favorite color, but she knows what is important to him. What makes him happy. And that’s what matters. It was just funny to rehash her reaction to the whole thing! In a public setting. If you haven’t, read her blog posting. It’s priceless!!

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Getting personal and why I do what I do….

Anyone that really knows me also knows that I am not quick with talk about my personal inner workings. I have a tendency to keep it close and work things out by myself. Great, happy things that are going on, I feel free to talk about, but let it be something hard, a struggle I am facing and I am locked up tighter than Fort Knox. I am never surprised at the shocked faces when friends slowly find out things that have happened months prior. And it usually happens with a “oh and this thing happened. Blah. Blah. Blah” followed by a quick “hold the heck on” from my friends. I am currently working to change that.

Last night, in the course of a conversation, I did the same thing to yet another person. As we were talking, I said something about being a cancer survivor. Shock crossed his face. “What?!?” My response? “I thought I told you.” And then I went on to tell him my story, answering any questions he had along the way.

I also told him that I had a cancer scare last year. During that scare, on the outside, I was very much “it’s nothing”. On the inside, I was scared as hell. My cousin died of breast cancer at a very young age. Every scare I have had along my journey was magnified when my doctors were told about this fact. The most common response was “that is way too young”. The way they treated me and my illness was always with that in mind and I am grateful. Any occurrence was usually found early and dealt with little invasion to my body or my life. While I was irritated about having to possess specialists and see them far more frequently than I cared (and I’m sure far more frequently than my insurance company cared for), it was always the reason things were discovered and dealt with so early.

Now of course I had some meltdowns along the way last year, but for the most part I kept a positive or at least a “positive” attitude. In October, one week after my 33rd birthday, I had surgery to take out the mass that was in question. The surgery was walk-in (love the advances of medicine!) and when the tests were completed, the results came back benign. After 7 months, I could finally breathe easy again.

5 months later, all I have left from that is a little scar that will fade over time but is a constant reminder of just how fragile life really is. I see the scar everyday and it has really affected my way of thinking. In January, I decided that I was going to join Team Rio and finally run the half marathon that I have been dying to run for almost 8 years now. In February, in an effort to aid my marathon training and my well-being all together, I joined D1 for a year to do boot camp 5 days a week. I’ve committed to a golf scramble in March. I am going to go skydiving this summer with a friend of mine (yes, I am jumping out of a perfectly functioning plane). I am doing the Warrior Dash with her in September, as well. I tell my friends that I love them when I get off the phone with them or when we part ways because I don’t want them to wonder how I feel about them for a second. I am meeting new people and forming new relationship because I refuse to let fear get in my way anymore. Wow! I am starting to feel like a Tim McGraw song!! ๐Ÿ™‚

Ultimately, I’ve decided that I am going to try to live like I have a million tomorrows and at the same time, live like today is my last. I want to make every second count because really I’m not guaranteed my next. And if I live to be 100, I don’t want to look back wishing I had done something that I let slip by, regretting time not spent with people I enjoyed, not loving people fully because fear and pride got in the way. I want to look back and know I lived to the fullest of my ability.

So call me crazy because of the things I’ve gotten myself involved with. Look at my schedule and wonder what the heck I am thinking. But I will tell you one thing, I am loving my life right now. I can’t tell you the last time I have felt this content and at peace. I may be busy and on the go, but I am not living in “oh, I wish I had” moments anymore. I am working on opening myself up to whatever the world is going to bring me and taking on life’s lessons along the way. This is really why I do what I do.

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Day 21

I do not like hills! There I said it. I realize I live in Tennessee, which is a very hilly state, and I love it. The photography opportunities are incredible. But I am training for a 1/2 marathon, not going on a photo shoot, so today I’ve decided that at least temporarily, hills and I are not friends. This morning we had another long run, 4 miles for beginners like me. ๐Ÿ™‚ I was at least mentally ready to take it on. I am still not feeling completely like myself but decided to take it easy and run what I could and not beat myself up for what I walked. I didn’t even turn on my running program because I knew that I would push myself a lot harder than I needed to if I could see my stats.

So we are all standing outside Martin’s BBQ in Nolensville (which by the way is not nice to make us smell that yummy bbq and have us run away from it) getting our route information when one of the running coaches mentioned that this route would be a little hilly but at least on the way back it would be downhill. I can do a little hilly, I thought. We started off and then we made our first turn and saw what a little hilly was. It was a pretty good incline. To the point that I couldn’t see what was over the rise. Alrighty then. Jogged my way up that hill, calves screaming the whole way. Yay! I made it over the hill! Next turn, another hill, steeper than the one that I just barely made it up. I began to think that maybe, just maybe, my coach might have told us a little fib. With every turn there was another incline and descent. Oh, yes. I would be running up hills to get back to where I started. Oh, Lordy! I made it the first mile and had to walk/run the rest of the three. Happily, I only walked the hills and even then I ran half the hill and huffed the rest of the way up and started running again. When I got to the back to our starting point, I looked at my phone and saw that I ran the four miles in about 45 minutes so that wasn’t so bad. For feeling bad, I figure averaging under 15 minutes per mile is good. I’ll take it!! ๐Ÿ™‚ I’m hoping that I am feeling normal by our next run and it won’t be so hard. I do know that I am going to research a runner’s diet. Mine is terrible and I’m sure is not helping me in the least. ๐Ÿ™‚ Changes….love them.

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