Bo-Bo Knows Gratitude for Physical Strength

So picture me running this week, my ipod cranking up the goof pop, my feet flying, my muscles making quick work of the five inclines on my running route, laughing when I realize that I'm sailing--as in easily--by the restored Victorian house that used to mark the part of the run where my face turned blood red, my legs screamed, and I could hardly catch my breath.

But no more!

I've flown through my runs so fast this week that I have muscle soreness. Not cramps! Soreness. As in I ran hard enough to build muscle. As in I had the steam to run hard enough to build said muscles.

And best yet? My handy Nike/ipod/pedometer thing tells me I was averaging 1o minutes and 52 seconds per mile. So, no, the international Olympic committee isn't exactly beating my door down, but in June it took me more than 50 minutes to run a 3.5-mile road race. And when I started the race, the time clock wasn't even on! Now granted, the field was so packed that there were some points in that race that I had to jog in place and others when I was being passed by pedestrians on the sidewalk, but any way you cut it, 50+ minutes is slow. A pace that has all the fleetness of a garden slug.

Now I've cracked the 11 minute mile! Happily. With a grin on my face! I am the bionic woman: sh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh--nng! I think people recognize the new bionic me, too. There have definitely been a couple of double takes as I pass that I'm choosing to believe have everything to do with people recognizing my new steel core and nothing to do with the fact that I'm a runner with a goofy grin plastered on her face. I'm further choosing to believe that those second looks have even less to do with the fact that, on occassion, I answer the lyrics of my goof pop running selections. Out loud. Like when the song my husband and I chose for our last dance at our wedding comes on and serenade me with"Wow! Look at you now!" and I giggle and say something that sounds in my head like you're damn right, look at me now but I'm sure comes out more like "pant, pant, yeah, giggle, pant, hee-hee!"

So I'm grateful for the clear proof of the added muscle mass, I am. But if the scale wants to start heading back in the right direction (aka DOWN), I'd be grateful for that too.