Last post, I wrote about my participation in a 10K run and how fun it was to leave the Army guys to choke on the dust kicked up from my shoes. Despite the comments of the older and wiser, who thinks there could be nothing fun about grueling heat and physical exertion while battling through sore muscles and aching joints, I have decided to take on a greater challenge - the half marathon.
"Now, why not a full marathon?" you ask.
Well, my friend, that would probably hurt. Besides, who's to say the marathon isn't half completed? All of you half-empty types out there...well...I would like to see you out there, running the full 26.2 miles. Then do it in the desert...while low-crawling through a mine field, while sneaking up to an insurgent hideout, armed with nothing but your K-Bar knife whith which you plan on unleashing your mayhem in the name of truth, justice, and the American way!! Hah! Didn't think I would have any takers!
Seriously, though, people often ask me why I run so much. "Why do you run so many miles?" My simple answer? Because they're there. My long answer? Because they're there. See, running for me has turned into kind of a therapy. I didn't mean it to turn out this way. Rather, I wanted simply to rid myself of a few pounds that attached themselves to my otherwise thin midsection. In the process of so doing, I learned that I really do enjoy strapping on the running shoes and hitting the pavement (or treadmill). It's relaxing. And I'm not fat anymore. And it keeps me from allowing my turrets syndrome to break through to the surface when dealing with the rediculous Army horse hooey.
Well, folks, wish me luck. I'm off to hit the pavement.
On a serious note, please keep my sister and her husband (and the rest of his family) in your prayers as they have suffered a terrible loss. Sis #1, I'm sorry and I'm praying for you guys.
A, E, L, I love you!