When I was little, my father was a smoker. Then, when I was in middle school we lived in California. My Dad was in the Navy and got stationed at Port Hueneme, CA. One school year he went away to Guam and came home and did not smoke anymore. Not only did he not smoke anymore, he had started running. He was a real runner, he would run 6 miles twice a day sometimes. We spent every weekend driving all over Southern California while he did 10 K races, then 10 mile races, then finally a marathon. During this time my mother started running as well. Then the two of them were doing races together and my sister and I would tag along waiting at the end of the 10K route. Sometimes they would let us run with them at home or ride our bikes. My mom would always say that we complained the whole run and then would sprint home and beat them. I don't think that my parents were sprinters. My mother is now a walker. She has arthritis in her knees. My dad has slowed down a bit and does mostly 5 K's.
Now, I run for me. When I get up early (5am) I am so proud of myself and want to just continue to work harder. When I PR a 5K, I am so excited that I can't stand it. Finally, when I have racked up bigger miles (16 this weekend) I can't believe that my mind and my body can and want to work this hard. So, this week when I run another 16 I will try to constantly inspire myself and allow my body and mind to carry me through to the end.
Lovely post!
ReplyDeleteI come from a family of non-runners. It is crazy for me to think that my own mom and step-dad are in awe of little ol' me when I go out and run in races. Things like that inspire me to keep working hard and hopefully get better at it!