“I go running when I have to. When the ice cream truck is doing sixty.”

I used to be so disciplined. I don’t know what happened. Marriage? Honestly, that is probably when all running ceased to exist. I am telling you right now, and you can ask my husband if you don’t believe me, I was ready to run a marathon at that point. My daily run was 6-8 miles. One day a week I ran 12-16 miles. Get this, I would finish feeling refreshed. I can’t even walk 6 miles now without requiring CPR when complete. Ok, so I exaggerate, but seriously, what happened? For some reason I had zero interest in a marathon then. I rarely competed in races and if I did I was talked into it by someone else who wanted to run. I just liked to run and the challenge was seeing if I could complete 10, 12, 14,….miles, not how fast I did it.

I used to go on and on about how fabulous running was. I would try and get everyone to do it. Now my friend Shannon, prime example. She used to hate when I would beg her to go running with me. She would eventually succumb because it was either run or sit and be lazy, and the guilt can overcome you. However, this was once torturous for her. Now Shannon is competing in triathlons. And she looks like she competes in triathlons, fab.u.lous. What is that all about? Talk about role reversal.

Now in college, I was asked to join the girls soccer team. Mind you, I knew nothing about soccer other then kick the ball into the net to score, and don’t touch the ball with your hands. However, I could not even do that. In no way shape or form can I compete in team sports. I am not coordinated like that. All of my friends played, and well I might as well hang out with them for 2 hours, what else was I going to do, run by myself? After some time, the coach and I got it, I definitely could not play the game, but I could work these girls, I was on the team to make the girls run. I did not mind sitting on the bench for an entire game, I would cheer my heart out. God forbid one of them be sick or hurt and I had to play, worst fear. However, during practice I would run like freakin Forrest Gump. These girls would be so annoyed with me. But if it helped their endurance and they could run for 90 minutes so that I could sit the bench, so help me, I was running them into the ground.

Throughout my married life, since it has been really so long, I did kick boxing with my friend Kellie, and then when we moved closer to my family I joined the gym with my mom and sisters and went daily to a class or something of the sort. It wasn’t running, but it kept me in shape.

Then I go and get pregnant. And well then I got pregnant again. And all exercise stopped beyond running around all day after children. People that tell you that they don’t work out and that they are just thin because they have children to keep up with all day long are full of it. I want to know what deal they made and with who. I promise I won’t tell anyone.

Unfortunately I don’t have the money for someone to work my butt out, or follow me around all day instructing me on what to eat and when, like let’s say Heidi Klum who decides she can do a lingerie show 2 months after giving birth. If I were to be in a lingerie show 2 months after giving birth someone in the audience would gauge their eyes out for sure. And something tells me that Hanes Her Way and sports bra because my boobs are still so sore would not really constitute turning heads anyway.

But now my kids are two and three, and I am pretty certain that they can entertain themselves for 45 minutes each day while I “jog.” Because here is the kicker. I have a treadmill in my basement that stands in direct view of Andy’s giant tv. I don’t even need to leave the house to accomplish this. To be honest, exhaustion has been my only excuse. I am just too tired at the end or beginning of a day to just go ahead and run. I am much more prone to sit and watch a show, blog, or read a book, because it requires minimal movement, it’s terrible. Now I am beginning to think I might have more energy if I started running again. There is no reason why I can’t watch a show while I run.

So here is my pledge. July 1st. July 1st is the day that I am going to start again. In October I want to run a 5k. That’s it. There were times when I used to laugh at a 5k. 2.5 miles? Really? I could sprint that. Now I am sure that I will be requiring mass amounts of fluid and most likely collapse upon finishing. Once the 5k is accomplished 2 times, I will move onto 10k, x2, and so on and so forth. Similar to the potty training I did for Kendall and will be doing for Ethan, I will be running training. What will my reward me sitting on top of the fridge in that big old box? Simply, my pre-pregnancy jeans. And the day they fit I am going to prance around like I won an Olympic gold medal.

I fully understand that this running plan kind of coincides with my trying to get pregnant plan, but let’s say it takes me 5 years to get pregnant again, am I supposed to just sit and wait and do nothing? No way, no more. If I get pregnant, well then, we will just pick up and start again. Yeah, that’s it. I have had my fair share of doing no exercise. Holiday is over.

Here is the bottom line:
"Running won't kill you, you'll pass out first!"