Someone told me that I should start a blog to document my running progress and adventures. I used to journal a lot, so I thought, "why not?". It will be interesting to look back over this one day to see how far I've come and maybe to relive some great moments.
My husband had been running for several months, probably starting around March 2010. He started running because he was a pack and a half a day smoker on meds for severe anxiety and panic attacks. He wanted to quit smoking. He also read that running was a great way to help your internal chemicals to balance to lessen anxiety and panic attacks. As he weaned off the medication, he started running. He still had the anxiety, but the running lessened the severity. I watched him grow stronger in his running and confidence. He invited me to run with him sometime. I said I don't have time.
I was also a smoker who had been struggling to quit for most of my adult life. I only smoked about half pack a day, but I started smoking when I was 14 years old. Even though I had played volleyball since I was 10, earning full athletic scholarships to pay my way through college, I mostly smoked the whole time. It was this weakness I could never overcome. Even when I hadn't smoked for a while, like throughout my pregnancy, it always seemed to lure me back.
I continued to struggle with quitting smoking through the spring and summer of 2010. I was still smoking 4-5 cigarettes a day, which tempted Shane to have a couple a day even though he was running, just because they were there. As he got closer to his first race, he asked me to at quit smoking at least for the two weeks leading up to it. I reluctantly agreed. I wasn't ready to quit. I hadn't mentally prepared for it. I wanted to quit on my own terms--which would be never, as long as I rationalized that 4-5 cigarettes a day REALLY wasn't that bad. I thought, I'll quit for now, but when he's done with that race, I'm definitely smoking again! He invited me to run with him sometime. I said maybe.
His first race was a 10K, Abe's Amble, in August 2010. He was so excited! He was exhilarated! He had a good run, but was determined to do better next time. He started training harder. His excitement wore off on me. I noticed that he was getting in better shape, feeling better physically and mentally, and I guess I wanted to be a part of that. I didn't start smoking again after his race was over as I thought I would. My problem was, when was I going to find the time to run? He invited me to run with him sometime. I said maybe--but this time I meant it.
Shane ran during his lunches. I spent my lunches at my mom's tailor shop feeding my daughter lunch and getting her ready for her nap. Shane often ran over to the shop and I drove him back to work, until those runs got too short for him. I definitely couldn't run at lunch.
The evenings were my time with my daughter. I had enough mommy-guilt already for the fact that I work full-time. I know many women struggle with that. It's more time away from my daughter when I only get a few hours with her a day on the weekdays, and that was unacceptable. Shane reminded me that I needed to take care of myself so I could take care of my family. He was right, but I still didn't know when I'd find the time.
I grew jealous of the excitement he had with meeting and exceeding new goals he had set for himself. I watched him grow proud of his accomplishments either by increasing his mileage or pace week after week. I also watched him becoming an athlete. In a weird way, this probably affected me the most. The "athlete" was always MY thing. He was the musician. I didn't go treading on his territory, but he was now definitely in mine. I know it kind of sounds bratty of me (it's MINE!), but whatever works, right?
I decided it was now time to start running. I had to make time to do it. I got up one morning at 6 a.m., the only time I really had that was Jocelyn-free, laced up my shoes and went running!