It serves me right, picking up that Born To Run book left "innocently" around by my husband. You know the one; you probably wouldn't be here otherwise.
Then I got all VFF, proudly strutting my "shoes" around and answering questions galore. If I had a dollar for every question asked, I could buy myself some real shoes. Wait, I don't even like real running shoes anymore. And what is a real running shoe anyhow?
I ran all the time as a kid. In high school I ran to school and back. I quit track but I blame it on shoes. I kept running after I had my own money to get my own shoes. I was a weirdo and I didn't know it. I didn't know most people hate running (or exercising, in general).
I kept running except that I never excelled. I wasn't consistent and I didn't have a clue, really. Then I joined some friends one Spring to run a 20K. I loved it. Furthest distance up to that Spring: 5K. First training day run with them and I blew past 8 miles like nothin'. I also got my old Nike something or other updated with an extra cushioned something or other.
I can visualize you cringing now. I blame my knee problems on the shoe. Ok, not fair. I blame it also on a whole bunch of things actually, but the shoes...
Now, like I said, I'm free of cushion. But I still am not where I want to be as far as pain free, distance and speed. Actually, I don't care too much about speed- I'd just like to run as far as I want pain free.
Fast forward one too many nice days in the middle of an Iowa winter, one too many goodies, and one too many visits to this very inspiring website and here I am.
I just signed up for the 8 week plan. This is pretty much the only way that I know of right now for me to get better at running. I have no doubt I will. (I'm a piano teacher- I know what good practice produces.)
I also like writing, apparently. This is my running blog. Is it supposed to be like my regular blog? I have no idea. So I'll just be rambling and if people follow along other people's blogs on here, then you can follow. And if they don't, then I'm writing for myself, I guess.