Running

When I was in college I dated a runner. A division II, All American, collegiate runner. A run every day runner. A cross country race runner. A person whose passion was running. A person who wanted me to become a runner. In fact his dream woman would best be described a long haired, long legged native American Indian type marathoner woman. Just picture Pocahontas in the Boston Marathon and you'll get my drift. I, however, did not run. I am of good solid German heritage and would not be called "leggy" by any means. Futhermore, I could not comprehend the "run for the sake of running" attitude.

In college, I liked to drink. So I bought a bike. My rationale was that he could run and I could ride my bike. I vividly remember a hot summer day, when we "went for a run" for like 10 miles, through the rolling countryside of beautiful Hillsdale county. I could not appreciate the rolling hills because he actually had to push me up the hills on my bike while he ran. Sad. I actually experienced eating the dust he kicked up in front of me while I puffed along behind him trying to catch my breath. I vowed at that moment that I would never be a runner.

Well, as the story goes, we went our separate ways. He ended up a very successful high school track and cross country coach. He married a girl with little resemblence to Pocahontas.

Ironically now I am running! I am even enjoying it (gasp). I hope to run a 5K or two this summer with Matt...a man who appreciates a fine, German woman.

Never say never.