Yeah, so, I'm a few weeks behind. But I'm ok with that, I think. (debating wether to continue it past my birthday or just finish with week 50 tomorrow.)
So. If you know me in person at all, you know that I'm pretty much the worlds most un-athletic person. I. Hate. Exercise. Hate everything about it: the clothing, the sweating, the fact that my face turns BRIGHT RED. It doesn't help that I'm also a natural born klutz, and four years of ballet lessons left me able to...walk. Without tripping.
I also have a extremely bizarre obsession with NOT BEING SEEN TO SWEAT. I've never been to a gym because I'm freaked out about having anyone SEE what a wimp I am. I absolutely hate the way I look when I run: all jiggly and huffy and slow, so when I used to go running near my house, I'd wait until after dark so the neighbors couldn't see. (For some reason my friends were concerned about the idea of me running after dark on rural roads. I was only worried about rabid raccoons.)
So I'm as shocked as you are to realize that, this time around? I'm actually enjoying running. I'm still huffing and puffing, but I'm actually looking forward to my daily run, and I find myself running five days a week.
I think I reached a turning point last week. First of all, I took my running gear when I went out of town with friends for the weekend so I wouldn't have to miss a run. Then I pulled on my sneakers before almost everyone else woke up, and found myself running down a street, in broad daylight, not caring if people thought I had bad form or saw me sweat.
Maybe, finally, I'm growing up.