I will be a running girl someday soon.

You know, my body feels like it is falling apart. I used to be a sports girl, a sports star, even, in a few of my seasons. I played Field Hockey, Volleyball, Soccer, Basketball and Swimming every semester except one, from 6th grade until 12th grade graduation.

Then, at 17, I went to college. You ever hearda the freshman fifteen? I gained about three of those. I went from Mommy's home, and her normal meals, and being a athlete, a decent one, too--to the Krazy world of my own dorm room, and nachos and beer and pop and pizza and beer and pop and nachos and beer and pop and....oh whoops I just wrote out my whole menu plan from college. Running? No way, I laid in bed, read books, ate my treats. Went to classes, got back in bed, watched some TV.

I am kidding, sort of. I actually was not some big drunk. I still bought groceries from the grocery store, and who knows what I bought. I know alot of nachos and nacho supplies and nacho accoutrements were involved, that's for damn sure.

Then I moved in with Steve when I was 20, and we chowed merrily.

Then I had a baby at 22 and gained 55 pounds. (Lost 30)

blablabla

So what I am getting at is not some self hate thing, but a genuine concern for my poor old bod. I want to walk, hell, I want to RUN again! I want to hold my skeleton up with its own musculature--can't even remember that feeling. I want to stretch and strengthen, and I want to feel firmly planted on this Earth, not tipping, leaning, tottering, teetering, tight, mincing steps, burning backaches, etc.

I would like to become a runner.

There is alot of symbolism in this for me, as I am doing some personal training mentally for some stuff that I would like to see happen in my life over the next year or two. But the idea of becoming a runner, like my first midwife was, always has been at the back of my mind.

My husband is my biggest inspiration. He is getting so in shape it is kind of making me feel weird. If he can do it, the last person on Earth can. No offense to him, on the contrary, he is living proof that complete piglets and couch potatoes can totally transform their body shape by exercising less than 60 minutes a day. He eats more than ten freshmen, I promise. He had to get all new jeans this weekend, and new shirts, too. He looks so cute I want to fold him up and put him in my purse and set him on the dashboard of my minivan when I am driving. All he did was ride his bike 2 miles, four times a day.,then he started doing push ups and some crunches.

So, I think I am going to wait until the mercury goes below 80 and start walking. Fast. By myself or with the stroller and Charlie. I just can't stand feeling like a bag of jello anymore. Its kind of scary and powerless to feel this floppy and brittle. If I end up looking hot then hallelujah. But I really, really do not care. As you well know, I enjoy happy hairdos and funky shoes, and definitely have no money for new clothes.

This is about something totally different. Power.