I am not a fast runner. Nor do I run particularly far. I like to run 3 miles during my workouts but sometimes I run 4 and sometimes I run 2, since starting working and with my knee injury sometimes I just walk 2 miles. One morning I just walked the 1/2 mile loop around the block and came home because I didn't have a lot of time but I wanted to get my blood pumping before I started the day.
Over the past year or 2 you have read on this blog the workout adventures of Iceman, Goose and I. Goose was a busy over achiever placing high on triathlon ratings and running 10 mile races in impressive times. Iceman was distracted with babies but in her heyday regularly ran 5 miles and finished a 10K several minutes in front of me a few years ago. They both train hard and deserve the accolades of success that go with their hard work.
BUT,
I am still standing. Still running. Still moving my body. I may go through ups and downs. More or less training, occasional weeks of neglect. BUT, I keep getting up, keep starting over, keep moving forward.
BECAUSE,
I know I have won the race simply by walking out my front door and not by how much I accomplish once I leave.
And now I find myself making the guilt call to Iceman in the morning to make sure she is returning to her workouts post baby number 5 and wondering if Goose's friend H, or Viper as we like to call her, is still taunting her with workout success.
I am sure eventually they will both pull themselves together and blow past me once again but you have to admit there is something to this slow and steady thing.
That's all I have to say about that.
