I am so proud of myself, y'all, I could just spit! First of all, let me be clear that I'm not one of those annoying runner people (no offense to my MANY associates who run daily) and am bragging. Not at all. 'Running' and 'Kristin Nicole Tanner Peebles' don't even belong in the same article, much less same paragraph or sentence. Since I've been a resident of Beaver Creek the past week, I've only been able to exercise for about 30 minutes. I was averaging my daily walk at 3.8 miles or about an hour, so I felt like dropping down to only 30 minutes was a total waste of my time. (I mean, it wasn't, since I was sweating and panting and gasping for air even in the shortened time.) But I decided that I should try to push myself a little harder since everybody I talk to seemed to be doing the same. Can't have everybody getting skinnier than me now can we? Okay, so the first night I decided to jog/walk/walk/jog/walk/walk. I've done a little more everyday and tonight I finally made it around the pond AT MAXIMUM JOGGING POWER which is pretty much the same speed it would take a grasshopper to hop around it. I did a 12 minute mile!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know my fellow athletes are busting out laughing at their screen as they are re-reading that, but it's so true. And it's so awesome. For me. In high school I did about a 10.5 mile and that was considered the fat girl pace...and I wasn't fat in high school. I just liked to hang out in the back to socialize. Which totally prepared me for real-life. Take notice that I always sit in the back at church or at events, etc. Back pew people are always the fun ones.
Things have been piling up for about a month now and it actually felt fantastic to sweat all my issues out. I still have a boat-load of issues, but they aren't as heavy as they were yesterday. My jogging was also supplemented tonight by a brief kick-boxing stunt. There are several bridges I pass on the trail and earlier it rained. I basically knew what I was setting myself up for, but I did it anyway. It was the perfect atmosphere for an invasion. An invasion of frogs, that is. My students know we don't use the 2 'F' words in class--'frizzy' or 'frogs'. And yes, I realize I teach science. I just choose not to teach anything close to the species. I DESPISE--let me repeat--DESPISE frogs. I can't handle them in any capacity and I will flip the flup out when one sneaks up on me.
Tonight I passed 2 bridges at a jog then came upon the third which is directly over the water. My feet were pounding on the grass and as I approached, I could see the bushes shaking just slightly. The hairs on my arms stood straight up. I always know they are around me, but like people who eat near me who smack their lips when they eat, I use tunnel vision and focus on getting myself out of the situation.
I ran a little faster. My right foot hit the bridge and 2 frogs simultaneously jumped at the same time across the planks and into the water. It was like they planned it; it was totally synchronized. I don't remember much, but I was able to contain my yell. I'm living at Beaver Creek where the average age is 78. These people wouldn't have been able to handle my horror-flick-ready scream down by the pond. I know at that point my left foot never touched the bridge. I'd like to think I was suspended in the air and just floated across it, never having my precious toes within an inch of those tiny bastards, but ninja-punching ensued because I'm pretty sure I have a torn muscle in my shoulder from it. I was instantly taken back to 2001 in the middle of a Billy Blanks Tae-Bo episode. I turned full-circle, kicked out, punched out, jabbed, and upper-cutted, all the while I'm positive there was a row of amphibians on the stump by the water eating popcorn and enjoying the entertainment.
I hauled tail up the hill from the bridge and never stopped. You may be secretly making fun of my 12 minutes, but those 12 minutes were hard-earned and I'm dang proud. Tonight was a lesson. I didn't exactly face my fears, but it's obvious somebody was trying to tell me something. As the British say, I've been shit lately. My successful run was a metaphor for how things are going, and that's just it--they ARE going. My fears and bad things keep popping out in front of me and I have tiny freak-outs, but I keep going. It's all I or anyone can do. Keep going. Whoever planned the frogs, I thank you. I'm mumbling ugly words under my breath as I say thank you, but I'm saying it. It made me feel better and it made me get through something that's difficult. Now here's a mental picture. Minus the tan. Enjoy.
