Ready to Run

There’s a long-time running joke in my family that goes something like this: “The only time I’ll run is if someone is chasing me with a sharp object.” I can’t even count the number of times my mom, sisters, and I have said this, in one form or another.

I’ve been trying for years to like running. And can I even call it running? I mean, let’s be honest – it’s more like this:

what-i-feel-like-when-i-run-what-i-actually-look-like

Or… you know… like this:

this-is-what-i-think-i-look-like-when-i-run

But I digress.

What I’ve discovered during the years (and years, and years) that I’ve been trying to like running is that I feel pretty darn good when I find my groove. I get past the first three minutes, get some rockin’ tunes going, and think to myself: Yeah, all right! This feels pretty good! I should do this more often.

Do I, though? I’ll give you two guesses, but you’ll only need one.

Me (green) and my sister (blue) before kicking some 5K butt!

And then there are times in my life – like now – where I tell myself: Dammit, Sabrina, get your ass up and go for a freaking run. Just do it. Go. And then I do something silly, like, you know… sign up for a 5K.

I signed up for a 5K recently and told myself that I would train. I would run regularly and get ready for the big day. And anyone who is genuinely not a runner knows how frightening a 5K is. But did I train? You guessed it.

So, race day approaches and I’ve convinced one of two sisters to brave the trail with me. With no training behind me and my only goal being to give it my all and finish the race, I took my place at the starting line. Boyfriend stood nearby with a big smile on his face.

And then we were off and running! The 5K wove between a couple small orchards on a ranch property – it was beautiful and refreshing. All the way up until I realized a 6-year-old girl in flip-flops was ahead of me. Now, I’m not usually a competitive person, but I’ll tell you what… I was not going to let this little girl in flip-flops outrun me. Not a chance.

When the finish line came into view, I mustered up every last ounce of energy I had and sprinted to the end, passing one other girl just before crossing the line. She probably wasn’t very happy with me.

Overall, I stopped only for a 50-yard walking break around mile two, and finished the race with a split time of about 10:10. I placed fourth in my division and 48th overall. It was a small race, so this isn’t anything majorly huge, but I can’t remember the last time I felt so proud and so strong.

And I learned something important: I genuinely do like to run. I’m not out to run any marathons, but it would color me happy to do more trail running and a 5K every now and then.

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