He decided to revisit his running hobby but came home coughing up blood. Lots of blood. Walking-around-filling-drinking-cups lots of blood. And then he was diagnosed with an obstructive lung tumor, had his flesh sliced and his ribs cracked and a lung lobe removed, and nobody in our family has run ever since.
The two-year anniversary of that surgery is on Monday.
Today I went running.
I've been thinking about it. These girls, this life, I love it all but I'm so tired. And I'm tired of being tired and I'm tired of complaining about being tired and I'm getting tired of myself. And now it's less than a month until L's first birthday and I so wanted to lose all my pregnancy weight by then and [stop: think about that -- my baby is going to be A YEAR OLD!] I'm close, but the last pounds have gotten pretty comfy, apparently, right where they are.
I know that running isn't going to be some calendar-suspending weight-loss miracle, but I don't ever like to feel that there's something I can't do. I've already done all of the not-too-hard things to lose this last weight. It's time to try harder.
And yesterday I made a quick Target run on my lunch hour and right in front of me, eye level, were the cutest purple sneakers. I didn't even own any sneakers! My feet grew a half-size with my first pregnancy, so my last sneakers were too tight, and never got replaced, because--how often do I wear sneakers?
And there were lots of other little motivations, too, but it was the sneakers that sealed the deal: because the thought ran through my head, you can't buy cute shoes just because they're cute; you can only buy cute sneakers if you actually plan to USE THEM. I bought them.
So I had to use them.
I put the first Couch to 5K podcast on my iPod, which coached me through a five minute walk and eight segments of 60-second runs followed by 90-second walks, and a cool-down five minute walk to finish.
I completed it fairly easily. I came home and didn't cough up anything at all.
And I felt AWESOME.