The mile

Do you remember the feeling you had the night before you had to run the mile in P.E.? For some, it was excitement - the opportunity to beat last year's record. It was a thrill, it was a race. For others, dread, nervousness, fear. Will this be the year that I am the slowest kid in my class? Will I have to stop and...(gasp)...walk?

I was always a kid in the second category. I never ended up the slowest kid in my class - not even close. But it was always my fear that I would be. I never had to stop and walk, I think I was too afraid to. I felt like if I walked, I was giving up.

So why is this relevant? Why am I writing about this now?

Tomorrow I have to run the mile. Tomorrow someone will ask me to do as many push-ups and sit-ups as I can. They'll ask me to sit and reach. They'll measure every inch of me. They'll weigh me. They'll tell me what percentage of my body is fat. They'll take my picture in a 2 piece swimsuit. Tomorrow I have to own up to the consequences of some bad habits. Because pictures, measurements, scales - they don't lie.

And after all of this is done, the real fun begins. It's something I need to do, and Jay has decided we'd make a good team. So we're going to try this together. We've committed to 10 weeks. 45 minutes a day. 6 days a week. Oh, and to change our eating habits, too.

My hope is that we learn some lessons, and we form some healthy habits. I hope that I get my butt kicked by some workouts and remember that the wonderful feeling of exhausted muscles and a buzz of endorphins far outweighs a great meal and a sitcom on the couch.

But tonight, I'm a little anxious. I'm a little excited. Just like the mile - I dread the hard work it will take. I'm nervous to try something new. And I fear that I will fail.

But my bigger fear is not trying at all. So for tomorrow, I'll run the mile. It's a start. : )