00:11:00

the quarter-mile track looms large in memory as something unconquerable, frustrating. the laps around the track sting the lungs of my 13-year-old self, and i can hear the other kids plodding past me, lapping me. i hear my breath, labored, i hear my heart, throbbing. the time to beat was 11 minutes. running a mile in 11 minutes in P.E. got you an A+.

i never, ever ran that in high school. i never, ever ran that in elementary school, either. i adopted the stigma assigned to me: the fat, out-of-shape girl who couldn't run a mile if her life depended on it.

00:12:30

this morning, the Wolf and i had agreed to do time trials on the nearby highschool's track. i knew, approaching the track this morning, that i can now run a mile in 12.5 minutes on a treadmill. when i ran this past Friday, that was just what i did. i was almost sure that i would do worse than that outside, since running over distance is harder than running because a machine says you should.

i watched the Wolf run his two-mile, timing his laps, thoughtful about pacing. there were speedwalkers on the track. i said goodmorning to them, waiting for my turn.

when the Wolf finished his two-mile, cursing his 00:14:45, muttering that it should be a 00:13:30, i stepped up to the line. i thought about the past, but i also thought about how far i have come. i thought about what i have to prove to myself. i thought about the reasons i quit when i was younger. i believed what everyone else said about me: that i couldn't because i was fat and unhealthy. neither being true now, i plodded along, as gracefully as possible, pushing myself along on funny-feeling knees.

i thought about breathing. ages ago, breathing heavily made me stop running. i felt self-conscious that people would hear me coming and go "Jesus, that girl is out of shape." stupid girl. all runners breathe heavily.

on the final lap, i picked up my pace in the home stretch and trotted across the finishline, hoping my time hadn't worsened.

"What was your best time on the treadmill?" the Wolf asked, still cupping the stopwatch in his hand so i couldn't see it.
"12:30," i panted. "how'd i do?"
he held out the stopwatch so i could see it.

00:11:27

now, i feel sure i could have run faster. maybe tomorrow.

Posted by Jen @ 06/30/2004 07:32 PM EST

Every day you continue to amaze me darling.

Posted by Wolf @ 06/29/2004 08:12 PM EST

Congrats, girlie girl! FYI, my Mom also said you looked beautiful at dinner last week.

Posted by Megan @ 06/29/2004 02:43 PM EST