I have recently reembraced exercise.
For the past week or so I have been a running fool. Work, run, sleep. Work, run, sleep. I go home after work, tie on the tennies, and it's heavy breathing and feet pounding the pavement for the next 45 minutes or so. I feel great afterwards and I already have been able to run an 8 minute mile, which is really saying something considering this:
I could hardly do this in 7th grade when I was on track. In fact, I think my best time as a professional runner was around 7:30.
So with this newfound sense of fitness and muscle-ly awakening I have been racking my brain as to how I can continue this streak of inspiration. Call me completely narcissistic, but I did the unthinkable. I prayed that I could keep up the running. I admit it, ok? I'm vain and I need help from a higher power.
Little did I know how well my prayers would work.
I got lost in the tundra earlier this week and ended up running an extra mile or two.
Yesterday I drove to the gym, only to lock my keys (along with my phone and all my IDs and money) in the car I had borrowed. So I had to run 3 1/2 miles back to the barracks to get help. 3 1/2 miles!!!
Thats a total of about 5 extra miles that I would not have run otherwise.
Ok, I get it. Prayer works, I stay fit, faith grows, everybody wins. Except my shins. They hate me right now.