Here’s the deal…I am not a runner. At least I do not consider myself a runner…yet. I don’t miss running if I haven’t gone in a couple of days (er…weeks). I don’t look at my running shoes with great longing on a cool crisp fall day and wish I were out on the open road. No…I have not fallen in love with running yet.

So…the obvious question…why run? I like the results …I like that my clothes fit they way I want despite my serious ice cream addiction. I like the escape factor – you put on your sneakers, headset and go. It clears my head like few other things can. And, for a serious Type A, mother of two boys, like me the value of that cannot be underestimated. I also like both the physical and mental challenges of running – I watch marathoners and am in awe of how they will themselves to keep going, how they find another gear when others would just flat out give up.

And so I am making another attempt to become a “runner.” Yes I have started and stopped running a couple of times before. This last stop came as a result of injury, no access to a treadmill in the dead of winter and the general demands of life, in that order. I have promised myself that if I can get over the initial hurdle (read pain and frustration) of getting started I will not stop this time. I’d like to eventually work up to running a half marathon…but first things, first. First I figure I need to get around my block (1 mile) without feeling the need to dial 911. Then I will work up to a 5K…then a 10K…but I’m getting a head of myself. Right now I need to wrestle one of my sneakers away from my dog and get going.