A confession

I like to think that running is my private little love affair. That it's a big secret that only you and I and the sidewalks know about. It feels like a love affair too. I blush when I think about running, I day dream about it. I get cranky when something prevents me from doing it. I make mix tapes for it. I indulge in a completely selfish way with it. If I could lay in tangled sheets with running on a Sunday afternoon I would. But it's not private. It's very very public. I run in public, I talk to anyone and everyone about it. And by it being public, it affects others. In a big loud way.

Like how this picture affects people in a big loud way. *cough* Teaparty *cough*

I never thought I would be here. I remember so vividly looking at the couch to 5k plan on the computer and then quickly closing the window if I heard someone coming down the hall, for fear of ridicule. For fear of the negativity that would come if I spoke up about what I wanted to do.
I remember being out in the breeze on a cool spring day and wondering what it was like to run. Just for the hell of it. But of course I never did. I was too fat/tall/hungover/smoking/etc. I was really good at making excuses to not do what I wanted to do. Truth be told I was afraid of loving it, and then having it taken away. Maybe it's because I was so young and I had so much taken away, but I knew I couldn't bear it, if I loved something innocent for me and all of a sudden I had to push it away so someone else could prove their power over me. I spent so many years being manipulated and not even realizing it.

Now I run for me. This marathon is for me and everything and everyone that I love. I've survived everything else. Now I'm going to thrive during and after a little footrace in October.