Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Love Lost (and Found)

“We are undercover passion on the run
Chasing love up against the sun
We are strangers by day, lovers by night
Knowing its so wrong, but feeling so right”

In the immortal words of Stevie Wonder's Part Time Lover lyrics, my love for running is “so wrong, but feeling so right”. Running makes me feel healthy and strong and makes it so much easier for me to stuff my serious amount of “junk in the trunk” into each pair of my overpriced designer jeans- even the ones pulled straight from the dryer. There’s just one small hitch with my little love affair- my legs are sometimes in denial that they are built for moving, ESPECIALLY when the cushy couch or squishy bed hug them so nicely whenever I’m trying to convince them to move out the door.

In just a few short weeks (October 7th to be exact), I will celebrate the one year anniversary of running the Chicago Marathon. What has the aftermath of the marathon meant for my running career? Not much, really. I quickly registered for the 2008 running of the Carlsbad Half Marathon just days after completing Chicago, only to shamefully bail on it once the January race day rolled around in favor of a snowboarding trip to Colorado (though that shame quickly melted away once I found myself knee deep in freshies at Steamboat). In May I finally made a comeback to the organized race circuit while visiting my mom in NJ when I forced her to run/walk her first 5K. However, the monstrous field of about 45 runners left me with little inspiration to continue my comeback. Oh- and there was that little 10K jaunt in the mud at the Camp Pendleton Mud Run, but alas- it just made me want to make a mud pie and still didn’t spark up the running bug.

Fast forward to August and here we are! Just 3 days until my 29th bday with a gaping hole behind me where hundreds and hundreds of miles should have been logged for the past few months. So what now? I think it’s about time to rekindle those smoldering coals that once were my love for running. No more whining, no more excuses and no more cheating with all those soft surfaces in my house. Time to lace up, head out the door, and find that girl with the hot butt again. I know she’s out there and she’s waiting for an excuse to buy a new pair of Rock & Republics. Good thing I’m pretty good at making excuses :-)