Bloody Boots

So sorry for the blood and gore, but ... I just wanted to post this because in a sick and slighly off-center way it made me proud. See these are my running shoes. And yes, that is blood soaking my sock and my shoe. I started running a few months back with a friend...planning to run a dozen or so 5k's starting in November. To be honest, I wondered how long my dedication and enthusiasm would last, how many miles my feet would chomp down before I collapsed on the side of the road, parched, winded and thoroughly beat. Now I have my answer. Four months in and I am still going strong! And apparently even 95 degrees with 60 percent humidity, eye-crust early mornings, and heart-shaped bloody blisters won't keep me from the road.

And yet, even with my war wounds (and this truly is a battle against my lazy butt and the adrenline rush at the end of the run), the real credit goes to my running pal, Amy. She is up, every morning, chipper and prepped to pulverize our running route for the day. She has stuck it out and kept on keepin on, even when we are on vacation. And the amazing thing is, she HATES it. Or at least I am pretty sure it doesn't make her Top 100 Favorite Things to Do. Even when the distance between us on the course increases she keeps moving her feet, and mowin' down the miles. And even though she has taught me a lot of really great life lessons, this is her most recent sermon. Learning to do new things is almost always painful, but almost always worth it. Even if we don't fall in love with it, it makes us richer, deeper, and more complete. And someone is usually watching! In this case, her kids, her husband, and I. (And a few more mis-guided people who think we are insane enough to be actually training for a marathon - and I am not saying people who run marathons are crazy, just we are not ready for that!)

May we all find something new. . . even if it results in bloody boots!