Diary entry of a slow runner

I am a tortoise. Yep, that's me, old slow and carrying extra baggage.

I seem to be having my nose rubbed in my slowness lately. First, coming in last at the race last week. This week the track runners sprinting past me. The walkers haven't lapped me... yet, but I am sure some have gotten close. It is hard not to feel a little demoralized.

Here I am running regularly since November, with a pace I would be embarrassed to post for any runner to see. I have not lost a stinking ounce, despite cleaning up my diet and watching my portions. Despite my best efforts my last set of labs were worse than the previous and I am spend more time at the doctor than I do at the salon. Ugh! Enough to make a person grumpy.

I watch a little longer... one of those runners that beat me in the race ran a mile less than I did. She only beat me my a few seconds. So maybe if we ran the same race I could have beat her. The gaggle pushing past me at the track? They need regular water and walk breaks, I can run an hour without stopping. Drink on the run.  The lady sprinter? She is awesome for a lap, then she huffs and puff walking for 5.

There are those that out run me, not going to lie. But it is nice to know that there are a few hares out there too. I am doing better than I realize at first. Will the weight loss come? Will the doctor visits slow? I don't know. But I know today, I am good with how I run. I don't suck as much as I originally thought.

Don't get me wrong, I want to be faster. I want to be hare fast. But I am perfectly happy with slow if it means every step is a run. I am still going forward. And yesterday... I was faster.