Only in Wanchese

"I'm going for a run, honey!"

"I really don't like you running at night...at least take Tuff with you," my sweet husband told me.

Mind you, Tuff is far from the definition of his name. He is 70lbs worth of white lab snuggles. So I chuckled to myself when it was suggested that I bring him along.

It was a quiet night. Missy Elliott and I were totally flipping it and reversing it when out of nowhere, a chocolate lab appears. I jump out of my skin because naturally, I didn't hear him coming. #thanksdrdre Tuff, being startled by my squeal...barked, scared himself and dove in between my legs.

The chocolate lab seemed harmless. He was wagging his tail and very excited to see company at 9 something at night. I tried to shoo him away so we could carry on...right about the time that Tuff decided he must defend his mother's honor & jumped at said chocolate lab. As luck would have it, I also went flying towards the chocolate lab, since at some point, the leash had gotten wrapped around my legs. I landed head first, feet and legs in the air, in the middle of the lab-argument. #fantastic

They both stopped and looked at me wide-eyed. Tuff braced for impact, knowing he was getting ready to get in big trouble. However, I couldn't sufficiently scold him because not only was I tangled in the leash, but I was also tangled my dang headphone cord. I looked like a calf that had been roped in a rodeo!

I finally got to my feet and the damn chocolate lab was still there...bouncing like bunny rabbit, I'm assuming singing "where are we going?! what are we doing?! are you my mommy?!" Again, I tried to shoo him...nothing. I picked up a stick & threw it, thinking he would chase it. No, he jumped up and caught it midair. #impressive Finally, I decided we would just run for it, assuming that eventually he would get tired of running and stop.

Except labs never get tired...of anything...ever.

He ran all the way home with us, trying to race/play with Tuff the entire time. When we strolled into the driveway, he joined us...like "So this is where we live...cooooool!" I yelled go home- and off he went.

My upper body certainly wishes I would've thought of that sooner. Shew! Next time, I'll opt for my pepper spray instead of my lab! #thanksbabe

Nothing Runs Like A Deere, But I Try!

I watched the posts rolling in the day of the Outer Banks Marathon. I was particularly excited to see one special runner cross the finish line and post a photo with her mama. She ran for her daddy, who she lost the year before to cancer.

A few days later, I sent her a message...

I'm so proud of you! You inspired me...maybe next year I will run with you!

She replied, "Yes!! FYI there is a half in April!"

I looked up the Flying Pirate online immediately. Although I've started 'couch to 5k' about 10 times and quit when it got tough, something in me was really excited about trying again...and you know, trying for 13.1 miles and not just a little over 3.

April 23...I read it and started to cry. I started typing my reply...

I just googled it...it's the first anniversary of Daddy's diagnosis. It's meant to be!

She replied, "Perfect! We will run in your daddy's honor!"

I knew I would have to start training soon- otherwise, I would never make it. The next weekend I broke out my running shoes and hit the pavement. I ran to the end of my road and back- running one minute, walking the next and so on...it was a little less than 2 miles and I cussed, when I wasn't gasping for air, the entire 30 minutes. My lungs hurt. I felt like I was going to cough up a blood clot and possibly die. At one point I looked at the sky, in true Fred Sanford form and whispered, "I might see ya soon, Daddy!" 

When I made it home, I collapsed on the couch and didn't move for the rest of the day. As the shock wore off, so did the pain that I thought I was in. My muscles forgave me and I realized something...I did it. I took the first step and nothing bad happened. 

The next morning I got up and did it again. This time, trying some of the breathing tips I read about during my post-run couch-coma, I didn't think I was going to die...not one single time.

That was in November and I'm still going strong. I alternate using the Couch to 5k app with other apps for running. (Couch to 5k builds you up from walk/run to running. Each day you run a little more, walk a little less.) When one run seems rough, I do that same run again the next day. I started not only tolerating my runs, but enjoying them...even looking forward and depending on them!

I never thought I would be a 'runner' (granted I run slower than a turtle in peanut butter) but I think I am. It resets my mind and gives me peace. I have found that I need my runs more than I need coffee in the morning. (And that is saying something.) I don't stick with just mornings or just evenings- I switch back and forth. Sometimes, if I have a really stressful day, I do both...not for my body or for training, necessarily, but for my sanity and the safety of others. 

Knowing that I'm running for my daddy gave me the drive to try it, again- and stick with it this time. In the still of my early morning and late evening meetings with the asphalt, I feel his spirit with me. I hear him telling me to take it easy, bud...but don't give up. 

So Don Deere...on April 23 I'm going to do my best to run like a deere. ;-)