That girl...
~~~By Guest Blogger, Maria~~~
God love her. There’s one in every group. Before kids, I can proudly say she used to be me. But, that was close to three years ago and I’m certainly not her anymore.
We all know this girl and smile and shake our heads when she says something we all wish could happen to us. But, more about her in a second… let’s get to the important stuff… our second group run.
So, we are supposed to do at least two other runs during the week to get on track for The Cherry Creek Sneak. But, with a traveling husband, a demanding toddler and two big ol’ dogs, I only got one run in. But, hey, I did it. And with it being Easter weekend, six other moms weren’t going to let the holiday get in the way either, and we arrived for the make-up class of the second group training session.
Once again we took off around Central Park. This week it’s 90 seconds running and only 60 seconds walking (reverse of last week). And you know what, it’s getting easier. I even had to pass a couple of ladies who weren’t keeping pace. ME, A PASSER! Who knew? Who knew I could do this? Ahh, the little victories.
Twenty minutes later we’re learning about some strength training exercises and stretching out and this girl (or in this case “That Girl”) actually says, “The weight just keeps coming off. I can’t seem to get any definition. I just keep getting skinnier.”
You can almost hear the collective moan. Eyeballs dart around the stretch circle for confirmation that she is THAT GIRL. And, inside me, that twinge of jealousy sparks up.
I take a closer look. She is a stick. I mean literally. I think if she stood behind the lamppost, I’d lose her. Damn her. I used to be her.
But, as running mates and partners in this goal, we gather ourselves and tell her to start eating meat and peanut butter – YES! Protein is the answer. Or, wait, is it just genetics? No, no, strength training and protein – that’s the ticket.
Oh well, back to the house for Easter festivities and one of those Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs. Guess I’m not going to be “That Girl” any time soon.
Sadly, I've never been that girl. But after the kid was born, I don't mind it so much. Junk in my trunk, that's what I've got.