smokin' his way to seven miles

Back this summer, around July-ish I'd say, I was talking to my sister about weight-loss and exercise (mine, of course - not hers because she naturally has the body of a supermodel, remember?) and she said something like - "You know, you should try running. You know how Dad can run a marathon after smoking a pack of cigarettes and drinking a six pack? I just think we have runners bodies. We should be runners." (sidebar: that is really how my dad is. It's a medical mystery.) Um, no crazy sister. I did not agree. With my short, squatty legs and my strong affection for Jillian Michaels' videos, I did not believe myself to be a runner. The most I'd run ever was a mile and that took me about forever to build up to. But I thought - "what they hey? I'll try it again, try to build up to a mile!".

true story, this is my favorite shirt to run in. I steal it from Nick once a week. 

And so I took off, after googling, "how to be a runner".

I found a plan that had you building up from three minutes of running and it took me a few weeks to build up to a mile. Right around that time, we moved from Seattle and landed back in South Carolina and my affections grew for running. I moved up to two miles and then to three and then to four, and then one miraculous day in October, I ran almost nine miles with a new friend who was training for a half marathon and I was hooked. Fast runner, I am not. Long distances, I love with a passion. I'm still not like my dad, I don't just get to go out and run. I still hate the first mile or so. I still have to eat and drink the exact right thing to be able to run well. But, I guess somewhere buried under those squatty, group-exercise-loving-legs, were running legs.

our planned route, scientifically recorded and documented. 

this is me. Still terrified of a long run. So scared, I seem to misplace my top teeth. 

So when my Dad decided to pop into town on Monday. I knew we needed to go running together.
I had seven miles scheduled for Sunday, but postponed it so my Dad could do it with me.
He was fine with going and was dressed in a sweater and nice shorts, but insisted that's what he wore running. On the way to our starting point, I'm pretty sure he smoked at least two cigarettes and he was pounding the sweet tea. We literally could not be more different in the running prep area.

Pop. This is exactly what he wore, only he changed shoes. Also, you can see the only reason the kids let their beloved Pop leave was because it was naptime and because Nick had the day off for the new year so they got to cuddle with Daddy. 

Anyhow, I don't think my Dad would mind me telling you - it's not as tidy as it seems. He can't quite smoke two cigarettes and drink sweet tea and just go run seven miles. I think the toxins in his body combined with my frighteningly slow pace crippled him around mile one and it was more of a walk/jog for the rest of the way. It was still super sweet to spend the time with him, at one point - I went off on my own at his insistence and had to run right back because I figured - when else do I get to run with my sweet Dad who lives in Germany?

So while this wasn't necessarily a running post - I'd love to hear your thoughts. 

a) what's your favorite clothing type to run/exercise in?

b) what do you have to do to prep before you do whatever you do?

c) am I the only person who steals their husbands clothing at least four times a week? 

AND! I have  a new little comment system set up , so let's try it out - shall we? 

Five question marks in a row?