One thing that my friend Pam and I ruminated on during our training for the first half-marathon in the glamorous 'Paris of the 80's' Worcester, Mass, was that we slower runners had to have quite the mind game going. While the faster set could bust out their ten milers in well under an hour and a half, we were out there for over two. That's a long time to chat yourself up and convince yourself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Running in the Woo on Saturday mornings taught me to love my little fan base.
Even if it's clear they were still out from the night before...and shoeless in 20 degree weather...and not quite sure they knew what they were seeing.
To that end, and armed with my very long, and very awesome, playlist, I vow to keep on loading my legs into their synthetic casing of compression tights and chugging along the streets of my new hometown so I can inspire a whole new set. 'Cause I can rock this shrinking booty. I think Mr. Cetera was speaking to me when he wrote those lyrics.