In the wee small hours of the morning...

My body is betraying me. It is making me into someone I never thought I'd be. It is making me wake up early to work out. Ugh. I'm becoming an adult.

Last night I took Henry on a walk around the neighborhood. While pushing the stroller I sensed the need for speed. I felt my body saying "Elizabeth, it is time to start running."

I'd read that the best way to begin running was to use interval training. So I decided every 6th minute of my walk around the hood, I'd run. I tried this out last night, but after about 30 seconds, I almost killed myself and my son. For starters, I don't have a jog stroller. I quickly learned there is a reason that jog strollers have breaks and don't put their wheel locks on the backs of the stroller. I was going down a hill and trying to keep my pace but was also trying to keep up with the stroller. As I did this, I accidentally stepped on the stroller's locking mechanism, making it stop dead in its tracks. I slammed into the stroller, almost knocking it over, and Henry's sippy cup catapulted out of his cup holder and began to roll down the hill. My Ipod fell and as I was bending down to pick it up, I knocked my water bottle from the carrier at the top of the stroller onto Henry's head. So my first lesson of running is that I might not be coordinated enough to do it.

This morning, knowing I had a full day ahead of me, I woke up at 6am (yawn!) to see if I could tackle this running thing on my own. I learned more lessons about myself, my running, and this whole exercises thing. Apparently, walking without pushing a stroller is confusing to me. I don't know what to do with my arms. Do I pump like one of those power walkers at the mall? Letting them dangle felt awkward too.

Also, when you are exercising in the wee dark hours, it is a different neighborhood. Used to seeing ladies walking their dogs or pushing strollers, I was suddenly the lone girl amidst men. Men biking and men running. Women may be from Venus, but the men in my neighborhood are from somewhere weirder than Mars. There was the one man who looked like he was still in his pajamas riding a bike. A little too nonchalant about exercising for my taste. Then the guy on the opposite end of the spectrum--complete biking garb with matching water bottle and helmet. And then there were a couple men running, shirtless and in basically a shiny loin cloth. And while I have no problem with them not wearing a shirt (Hey, I plan on running around the neighborhood in just a sports bra one of these days, say 60 pounds from now), but please, gentlemen, can you buy some running shorts that are a bit longer? I'm covering my wobbly parts and I would appreciate you doing the same. Men running do not wave to women walking. They throw the peace sign or salute. Do I look like a hippy or a soldier? I was wearing addidas shorts and a pink ZTA t-shirt. And around 7 I got to see all of the high schoolers walking to Monakan. When did skin tight jeans on boys become popular? And apparently it is not just my nephew Anderson who loves his cologne. High schoolers also do not wave. They do not even hint that they see you, even if you are only three feet away and say hello. Not even a nod.
But back to more about running. Serious undergarment issues. And it makes my entire body hurt. I hurt my shoulder running (is this even possible?). And my tendinitis is acting up again. My feet and ankles have been throbbing all day, so I'm going to get some new shoes. But the major problem is that after about 45 seconds of running, I'm sucking wind. At the end of the minute, it was all I could do to keep walking and not just bend over and try to catch my breathe. I'd like to think that maybe I've made it 30 years without knowing I have severe asthma, but I'm pretty sure I'm just being overly dramatic. And oh yeah, I was thirsty, but didn't have a stroller with a cup holder with me. And when I ran, my Ipod fell off my pants and I stepped on it and once again almost ate pavement. I ended up having to keep taking it off and putting it back on every five minutes. (Remember, my Ipod is 4 years old. It is what they call a 40GB "classic." It weighs about 17 pounds.)

So I'm not so sure about this running thing. I'm wanting to run my college sorority's 5k in Chapel Hill in the spring, but I also kind of think that maybe I should just walk the thing and not kill my body.

More than anything, I missed the stroller and the little guy in it. I missed one of my little secret treasures of motherhood--being able to talk to yourself under the guise of speaking to your child. And I missed Henry talking back to me, pointing at every barking dog, barking back at them, and shrieking at the passing school buses.