running

I have always hated to run. In high school, the worst days of my life were the ones in which we had to run the mile. I was a terrible runner. I was always last. The fat kids were faster than me. When I took a PE class in college, I was horrified to learn that I had to run a mile and a half three times throughout that semester. Running, in a weight training class! It was awful.
I know people now who love to run. These people have always told me that they used to hate running too. They tell me that when they started out it was terrible, but that once they got past the terribleness, they just loved it. I have always thought they were lying.
Well a couple weeks ago I was in Montana and feeling pretty good about things, like about climbing mountains and crossing rivers and just being pretty hard core extreme. I thought, when it came up in conversation, that a triathlon was a sweet idea and that with some training, I could totally do it. So the idea was born and we are really going to do a triathlon (a mini one) in just under two weeks.
Needless to say, I have started to run. The first time, I went with my friend Sarah and I made it further than I thought I would, but I was wishing the whole time that I would twist my ankle so I could stop running and, even better, have a great excuse to back out of the triathlon. The second time we ran I did not have to stop and walk and was feeling pretty proud of myself. The subsequent times just kept getting better and better and tonite, I went on a late nite bridge run with three of my friends. We crossed five different bridges. I did not stop and I did not die. I actually enjoyed myself. We just calculated that we ran 2.66 miles. And for the girl who used to walk behind the running fat kid during the high school PE class mile, I am pretty dang impressed.