I went into this book expecting it to be a motivational running guide written by a super-runner who runs marathons at 8-minute mile pace, has defined abs, muscular legs, is a health-food nut, and is a true lover of running. You know, those people who make running marathons look easy. I'm the opposite of that, so while it's nice to get advice from those amazing runners, it was downright refreshing to read a book written from a perspective I could relate to.
For those of us who lack motivation (even super-runners go through that every now and again), or for people who have never run much before and think they may want to start, this book offered humorous advice from a non-runner to non-runners (or non-super-runners). I wouldn't rely on it for true training information (consult an actual super-runner or a book written by one for that), but for someone looking to start running, it gave a real look at what running is like. Again, sometimes super-runners (or as Dawn calls them, Serious Runners), make running look so easy than I tend to forget how much it actually sucks half of the time, and then I feel terrible about myself for not being able to glide effortlessly through a 5K or a long run. In the book, Dawn has a way of being real about how hard it can be, but also how worth it is in the end given that we are able-bodied people, and we should use our bodies before it's too late.
I recommend this book for anyone who needs a little nudge to get back out there, or even if you're already out and want a good book to read in your downtime.

It's been almost two weeks, but I've yet to write about my 4th of July race.

I was supposed to be off for the weekend and would be running a local 5K with Jon on the 3rd, then do fun 4th of July things on, well, the 4th.  Only two days before the weekend, I found out Jon had to work.  So to make a long story short, my mom offered to fly me home for the weekend because it was my Dad's birthday and it would be a fun surprise for him.  I felt a little guilty about missing my race, so I found one at the last minute that I could run down there.

The morning of the race - Independence Day - was a comfortable (and patriotic) 76°.  Well, comfortable to those who weren't running.  Anything over 70° with a dewpoint over 60° and it feels like 95° to me while I'm running.  The race started on the most charming road, aptly named Main Street.   Front porches were decorated with American flag bunting and the street had music piped in while we picked up our race numbers.  Everyone lined up  (I tend to stick toward the back) and we listened to the Star Spangled Banner in front of the fire station.  The end of the song went something like this:
Leave it to a spectating dog to break the crowd into laughter during a song which usually gives listeners goosebumps.

During the race,  I took it slow (as expected due to not training through the entire spring), and finished in 32:57.  After leaving Main Street, the route took us through a neighborhood without shade and it was here that I realized how out of shape I am.  Not even two miles into the race and I was already itching for the finish.  How am I going to run a half marathon in two months?  I have a lot of work to do.

Regardless of all that, the race was nice and I enjoy the goodies at the end.  There were a few wading pools full of ice water that held bottled water.  I hoped to "accidentally" fall in headfirst when I stretched a little too far to grab myself a bottle, but unfortunately I didn't.

Most of my workouts are uneventful. Maybe someone will honk their horn as I run by, but other than that it's pretty typical to get an entire workout in without anything extraordinary occurring. However yesterday's workout was not one of them.

Sometime during the late morning, Jon and I left the apartment - him on foot, myself on wheels - and went for a 5 mile run/bike ride together. The air was slightly cool still, but it was otherwise perfect exercising weather. We made our way into town, past businesses and through quiet neighborhoods. My bike chain popped off at one point, so we stopped while Jon put it back on (covering his hands in grease in the process). About a mile from home, he took off for a quick uphill jaunt (far too steep for my bike and I to handle) and said he would be right back down.


Fifteen minutes later, he runs up behind me, coming from the opposite direction that I was expecting him, clamoring for my iPhone.
"What's going on? What took you so long?"
He went on to explain that an old woman popped her tire as he was running past, and she didn't realize it was flat yet. Jon ran up to her car while she was stopped in traffic and told her that the tire was flat. She said "Oh dear!" and pulled to the side of the road. Jon told her he would be right back and ran down the hill to the gas station. They told him that they don't offer roadside assistance (and apparently they don't offer help just for the kindness of helping, either), so he looped back around to where I was waiting.

Jon ran and I biked alongside him back to where the woman was standing by her car. She had her AAA card out but had never used it before, so Jon used my iPhone to call them with her info. We waited with her until AAA arrived. For those 30 or 40 minutes, she told us stories of her grown children and grandchildren, about her late husband, and about the various jobs she's held throughout her 90 years. She asked about our upcoming wedding and was so genuinely happy for us, despite knowing us for only 40 minutes.


Once AAA showed up and changed her tire, we told her to take it slow on the donut tire and get it changed right away. Over and over she thanked us and told us how grateful she was that we were there to help her. She wanted our names and address, but didn't have a pen, so I took her information down on my iPhone and promised to send her a card.

Up until that point (from the day before) I had been having an awful time, emotionally. A mix of homesickness and the stresses of certain aspects of adult life had me on the couch in my pajamas, crying over the phone to my mother. Jon was trying all that he could to bring me out of it, finally making me go on a bike ride with him. I'll admit, my mood was slowly getting better, but I still intended to retreat to my spot on the couch when I returned home. However, after the events that transpired, my mood was lifted. One of the things our new friend said to us before she left was how Jon and I were so blessed to have found each other. When asking about our jobs, she told us we were so blessed to not only have jobs, but to get to work together in a good field. I know people tell us these things all the time, but for some reason in that moment, sitting on a stone wall with the early afternoon sun beating down on us, it felt different. This 90 year old woman was speaking from her heart to two twenty-somethings who stopped to help her, in return giving us the only thing she could, and that was her knowledge of what's important in life. After all, when you're 90 years old, you know a thing or two about it. When speaking of her late husband, rather than focusing on the fact that he is no longer alive, she instead said she was lucky to have had him for 51 years. Even through one of the saddest things a person can experience - the death of a loved one - she was still able to remain positive and focus on the good. For me, that was enough to snap me out of whatever mood I was in and make me realize that things weren't as bad as they seemed.

I'm not a religious person, so I don't believe in divine intervention, but something made my day play out the way it did for a reason. If we hadn't been in town at the exact time that we were, we may not have met our new friend, and I may have come home and spent the rest of that gorgeous day on the couch. Instead I came home feeling hopeful and positive and had a terrific remainder to my day. Was it necessarily a life-changing event? Maybe not. But then again, perhaps it was.

I'll let you know once I'm 90.

How's my training going? My training is non-existant. Between spring cleaning the apartment, wedding planning, and disgusting weather (39° and sleeting last week), I have not gone for a single run in two weeks. I know. I'm horrible. I'm a bad runner. I've probably lost most of my fitness. And even after my motivation has started to come back after volunteering at the Boston Marathon (post to come soon), I still find myself sitting here on the couch, at 8:30 on a beautiful spring morning writing about how I haven't run in awhile instead of getting out there to actually run.

But the thing is, I'm bored of running around our neighborhood.

Let me explain. We live in an apartment complex just off a main route in town. Anywhere to the left of the apartment is commercial area: main roads, shopping centers, restaurants, etc. Not exactly runner friendly. To the right is residential area -great! - but there are only two ways you can go down this way. And on every run, I run those same roads. I am so bored of them. The thought of having to run past that same doctor's office and that same wooded area and that same condo complex bores me to pieces. The variety in the run doesn't come until later - if I'm going longer than 4 miles. I just can't get myself out the door with the thought of that same start to my run.

Does this even make sense? I don't think it does, and yet I can't get past it. I'm wasting away this lovely morning that I could be outside running by sitting inside my apartment. I even bought a super cute new running skirt at the expo this weekend, and even that won't get me out the door. I need a new route, only I can't get to one from here unless I drive somewhere. But driving to a neighborhood to go running? Isn't that a little backwards?

I have no idea how to get past this. But the longer I sit and think about it, the warmer it will become outside and the less comfortable the run will be. So I'm going to eat breakfast now and put on my running skirt and see where that gets me.

Hopefully it's got me running past that doctor's office.

[10:42am/60°/62% RH/bowl of Kix before run]

I was hesitant about going for a run today. The weather is perfect, and I really had nothing better to do, except I still found myself on the couch reading my new Runner's World, of all things. However, I always find myself feeling inspired to run when I read RW, so before I knew it, my shoes were on and I was out the door.

But I forgot to pee.

I could feel it from the start. My bladder felt like it was bouncing around with every step. Run, run, run. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Down hills, over the river, past the flooded soccer fields, up one last (long) hill, and a sprint home. Relief! Despite the discomfort, I guess having to pee works for me: I ran my fastest (adulthood) 5K time thus far!

I'm home now, chewing on a Clif Bar, sitting next to my fan trying to cool down before I hop in the shower. I feel much better having run this morning than had I kept laying on the couch watching The Martha Stewart Show. I'm looking forward to another pre-work run tomorrow morning with Jon... and I promise myself I won't forget to pee first.

Running my first half marathon was a learning experience for me. I had to wake up earlier and run longer than any other race I'd run before, so I had to do a lot of things differently. For any other newbies looking to tackle their first half, here are some of the things I learned:

Considering that this is my first post, I believe a proper introduction is in order. I'm Jon, the second half of the Runninghams, and welcome to Go, Runninghams, Go! . Like Alicia said in her first post, I have been a runner since my freshman year in high school and remained so through college, where I was elected captain of the school's cross country team during my senior year. Although I have never matched the 60-70 miles per week that I ran back then, I have been able to maintain my love and passion for this wonderful and strange sport and I hope by reading our blog you will "feel the love" too!

After nearly two hours of patiently waiting, Disney's Princess Half Marathon officially commenced. Corral B was to start at 6:07 am. After a ten second countdown and a few flashes of fireworks, we were off, albeit slowly.

I was surprisingly... not nervous. I waved Jon and Jess off to the land of 8 minute pace while I stayed back, falling into my comfortable pace. The sun rose and I (cautiously) stopped off (in the grass) to take a few pictures. One mile down! Then two! Then three! I may run slow, and therefore take awhile to get to where I'm going, but the time went by super fast. Disney characters and high school bands lined the road for entertainment. A lot of the more serious runners smiled and passed by, whereas I (and plenty of others) who didn't have much of a time goal in mind stopped for pictures of/with Captain Jack Sparrow, the Richard Petty Race Track drivers, and the glorious arch welcoming us to the Magic Kingdom. I got wicked emotional as we ran toward the Ticket & Transportation Center. No, I don't harbor a particular fondness for tickets or transportation, but up until this point there hadn't been too many people on the sidelines. It was still early when we started, and a lot of those roads were closed to cars, so it was expected we wouldn't see too many people until we neared the Magic Kingdom.
There were, however, plenty of cheering volunteers throughout the entire race, and they were so great, always reaching out their hands for a high five. Anyway, as we entered the TTC area, there were so many people lining the sides of the course, shouting, cheering, hooting, hollering, clapping, and holding handmade signs. I hit a wall of pure emotion at the sight (and sound) of this. I know it sounds dorky, but it was so overwhelming to hear so many people telling every one of us "you can do it!" and "I'm so proud of all of you!".
But that all came to a halt when I spotted a bathroom - a real multi-stall, multi-sink bathroom! - with a short line. I somehow maneuvered myself across the path of my fellow runners and to the ladies room. But hey, that men's room doesn't have any line... and there aren't that many men running in this race anyway... and I've done it before at a concert... oh she's going in too, I guess I'll go with her... I threw up my hands as blinders, yelled "Princesses, coming through!" and nearly ran into another woman coming out of a stall as I ran in. Then quick wash of my hands (with my head down) and I was on my way again, warning the other ladies with the same idea to avert their eyes, there were, in fact, men inside.

There really was nothing like running through the Magic Kingdom. My favorite of the Disney Parks (with Epcot in a close second), it was incredibly fitting for a Disney Princess race to make a jaunt through the most Princessy of the parks. The course weaved in and out of back lot and actual park, before making the turn onto Main Street, USA. As I stepped out of the bathroom earlier, I made a quick call to my Nan and Grandpa John to find out where exactly they were. After all, they came all this way to watch me run, so I wanted to make sure I saw them! They told me they were right at the start of Main Street, so as I made the turn, I scanned the crowd. Sure enough, just at the start of Main Street, there they were. I ran to them, waving, giving a quick sideline hug to Nan and continued up Main Street toward Cinderella's Castle. I felt like a rock star.



Before we reached the castle, the course turned into Tomorrowland, into Fantasyland, and then by Cinderella's Golden Carousel where none other than Cinderella herself was posing for pictures. That ol' fancy maneuver I pulled at the bathroom came in handy as I had to do it again to loop back around and hop in line. Royal trumpeters up on the castle played their trumpety (another word made up by yours truly) tunes every minute or so. Shouts of "WOO!" echoed as we ran through the castle and down the ramp in front. A photographer was situated here and a slight traffic jam ensued, but it was understandable. The course went from here through Liberty Square (mile 6!), Frontierland, and through back lot. I passed by a few characters like Jessie from Toy Story and the relatively unknown Clara Belle Cow, but did stop for Peter Pan & Wendy, Aladdin's Genie, and Geppetto. It was neat to have some of the less famous characters as well as the expected Princesses available for pictures. I'd never have guessed that there was even a costume for Geppetto, but it's cool that there is (Pinocchio was one of my favorite movies growing up).

After we left the Magic Kingdom, we began the longest, most boring part of the race. Miles 7-10 took us past the Grand Floridian, the Polynesian, and the backside of the racetrack, before passing a large, but really nicely landscaped golf course. We were running in the sun now, so if people hadn't shed their warm clothes yet, they were doing it now. I did stop for pictures with Belle and Pocahantas & Meeko (Pocahantas liked my braids!). Oh, and there was that little jaunt to the medical tent for that pesky sciatica. I had to make stretch stops throughout the race to keep it from getting bad, but my body is one of those rebellious types, so by mile 9 I had to take stop for Tylenol. Unfortunately it didn't kick in quite as well I'd hoped, so around mile 11 I was wincing in pain. It was too bad, because I felt really good otherwise; full of energy, and the rest of my body was not too sore (yet).



Continuing on, the course went around an on-ramp and up onto an overpass for the home stretch back to Epcot. Only two miles to go! I stopped for a quick stretch at a medical tent, and when I looked down I noticed I had a big blood stain on my shoe. Apparently my toe was bleeding and had bled all the way through my sneaker. I actually couldn't feel it, but I figured it was some sort of blister. If anything, I looked like a legit runner, woo! When I finally saw the Mile 12 sign, I started to freak out a little bit. I'd believed I could finish the race all along, but when I was just a mile away from the finish about to enter Epcot, it was like wow... I'm totally doing this. I'm going to complete a half freakin' marathon.



When we emerged from the parking lot and back lot into Epcot itself, volunteers and cast members were cheering and high five-ing us. I'm a big old sap because I felt emotional at this point too. We approached Spaceship Earth then turned right when I was the wonderful, amazing, beautiful Mile 13 sign. Just around the corner was the finish. As soon as I spotted it, I said "Oh my God" and started sprinting toward it. Making it over the finish line in my first half marathon was one of the best feelings in the world. I had done what I set out to do, and had a fun time doing it, and that's all I could have asked of myself.


I spotted Nan and Grandpa John in the crowd with my mom's cousin Claudia and her husband James. We exchanged hugs, they took pictures; Nan threw me on the phone with my mom really quick because she had gotten the text update of my finish. When I left them, I saw Jon, Jess and Sean. Jon gave me a big huge, Runningham Hug™, and I needed one! I started to hobble away when Jon reminded me about my medal. I almost forgot to get my medal! Our medals are shiny and heavy and gorgeous and I couldn't stop staring at it.









After this, we wandered around the post-race area, getting our snacks, bags, and bidding farewell to Nan and Grandpa John. We got a group picture with Princess Jasmine before catching the bus to our hotel - sitting for the first time since around 3:30am! Our bus over to the race at 3:45 was standing room only!). I caught a nap while the Jon, Sean and Jess went to a spring training game at the WWOS. I anticipated a necessary post-race nap a few weeks ago when they bought the tickets, and I am so glad I passed on the game. I was refreshed, albeit very sore when I met Jon in the Magic Kingdom later that afternoon. We rocked our medals around the park that day (well, I wore mine on Monday as well. Milking it for all it was worth!) and got tons of "congrats!" It was such a good feeling.
We ended the day with Sean and Jess and Nan and Grandpa John meeting us in the MK for the Wishes fireworks show. It was the perfect end to a wonderful day.




Wow... this is way longer than I intended it to be. I promise any future race reports will be much shorter!

p.s. See all of my race pictures here.

Since this is a running blog, I'll skip the tales of our Disney trip visit and go straight to Saturday night. Our friends Sean and Jess had arrived in town Friday night; Jess was running the race with us and Sean planned to be our cheerleader. The four of us had a pasta dinner at our hotel (and I stopped by the WISH Team meetup for a few minutes) before going to the room for the night.
I'd been able to keep my pre-race jitters to a minimum for most of the evening, however once I started to pack up my race day bag, that totally changed. I got a major case of the what-if's: what if I don't eat enough before the race and I start to feel weak? What if my feet hurt too much to get through 13 miles? What if our alarms don't go off in the morning? I tossed, I turned, I got up to pee a thousand times; it wasn't the best night's sleep.

Three o'clock in the morning - no matter what time you go to sleep - is never an easy time to wake up, but I credit the race with making it a little easier. Getting up during pre-dawn hours is miserable when you know you're off to work. When it's to run a race in Disney World? Well that's a whole other story.
Jon, Jess and I changed into our racing clothes that we'd laid out the night before. I double, no, triple checked my bag to make sure I had the necessities: iPod and Nike+ sensor, sunglasses, camera, Sport Beans. Our room was relatively close to the bus stop, but for some reason at 3:45am and 42°, the walk took on like, 5 additional miles, or so it felt. I was wearing a running skirt with running tights under it, and a tank top with a long-sleeved running shirt over it, while Jon manned up in just shorts. The rest of us would be braving the cold soon, after we would check our bags and take the long walk to our corrals by 4:30. About 30 seconds after I checked my bag I already missed my running tights.

If I learned anything from Runner's World about long races and bodily functions, it was to stop whenever you saw a pre-race port-a-potty, whether you had to go or not. Same goes for finding one without a line during the race: it's a rare occurrence, so take advantage and just go. And before and after the 20 minute walk to the corrals, we made porta-potty stops for just that reason. To keep warm, Jon, Jess and I huddled together and bebopped around to a remix of Party in the USA, line danced to some song I don't know, and did a very weak 'keep your hands close to the body' rendition of the YMCA. Whatever it takes to stay warm, amirite?

Friday morning, Jon and I woke up and went for a run along the jogging trails at our resort. We passed dozens of other runners, undoubtedly preparing for the race as well. It was a beautiful morning, and running along the river was really peaceful. Once we got ready for the day, Jon and I took a bus over to the race expo at the Wide World of Sports. Going to the expo was super exciting; it was starting to feel real at this point.

We walked into the Josten's Center and saw a massive crowd of people on the floor. From up above, I spotted the official DPHM merchandise area - a whole mess of pink! - and took off for the stairs. Jon and I eventually made our way through the throng of runners to the back to pick up our race bib numbers and hand in our waivers. If it hadn't fully hit me yet, it did once they handed me my Princess Alicia race number! It was so crisp and beautiful and pink... I couldn't stop looking at it. After months of training, in two more days I was going to pin this onto my running shirt and set out for my first half marathon. I snapped back to reality once Jon got his number (which, much to our disappointment did not say "Princess Jon", but rather just "Jon".) and we saw that he was placed in corral E. With my anticipated finish time of 2:45-3:00 (based on training times), I was placed in B. Jon's much faster than I am, so while it's not that he was set out to win the race or anything, he was hoping to be in a higher corral. The girl at the runner relations desk was hesitant to change his corral until I showed her his 5 mile run time (there were no 10K races around us for him to run for proof of time, so we brought the next best thing) and told her he'd be running about 8 minute miles. I think she understood, and moved him up to corral B with me. We walked over a test mat with our D-tags to make sure our chips registered on it (which they did) and then picked up our goody bags and t-shirts. After a quick size exchange (resulting in a white shirt rather than blue, no big deal) we walked around the expo checking the stands out. In the end, I only bought a few running stickers and the DPHM pin.

Oh, and I also got glittered by the Bibbity Bobbity Boutique! I can't resist a good glittering.

One night last July, Jon was internetting (yes, I've turned the word 'internet' into a verb. in my language, anything can be verbified.) and found out that Walt Disney World hosts races a few times a year. He told me about one he knew would catch my attention: The Disney Princess Half Marathon. One problem? I wasn't a runner. Yeah, in high school I could pump out 6 minute miles, but I was 10 years younger and 20 lbs lighter. And while I've run a few 5K's recently, a half marathon was out of the question. Thirteen point one miles? Run for longer than 35 minutes? Is that even possible?

A week or so later, I was doing some internetting (ha!) of my own, in preparation for a trip in which we would be visiting Tallahassee and Cocoa Beach, with a one night stop in Orlando. A whole afternoon to spend in Disney World! I hit the interwebs for some information on dining options and lo and behold, I stumble across a blurb about Disney races. Out of curiosity (and the fact that Jon insisted with enough training, I could surely complete a half marathon), I Googled the Disney Princess Half Marathon. I checked out the info on the website, read race reports, and found the WISH forum at Disboards.com. The race sounded like a blast, and the support that Jon was giving me made me realize this is something I could do if I really tried. So Jon came up with a training plan for me, and over the next few weeks I started my training. I also read Jeff Galloway's book, Half Marathon: You Can Do It! and Bob & Shelly-Lynn Glover's The Competitive Runner's Handbook, as well as subscribed to Runner's World magazine. I decided if I was going to be a runner, I needed to learn the ins and outs of the sport.

As summer turned to autumn, my runs were getting longer. During one 3 mile run at the gym, I had soreness in my, well, butt area, on the right side. I'd had this pain a few times before and made sure I stretched it out, so that day I did the same. By the time we'd arrived home from the gym, I couldn't move. I literally fell onto my couch, face first, and remained that way while Jon made dinner. This was no pulled muscle: the next day at the doctor I found out it was sciatica. I hadn't heard of sciatica before, but it's simply a set of symptoms that come when the sciatic nerve - what The Competitive Runner's Handbook describes as 'the longest river of pain in the body' - is somehow pinched or compressed. I think the Glovers had it right, because this was the worst pain I'd ever felt. I spent the next 2 days on the couch watching The Office on Netflix, while drifting in and out of a painkiller-induced sleep (Vicodin, muscle relaxers, and Ibuprofen will do that to a person). When I got back to running 2-3 weeks later, I would feel okay until I hit 2 miles. Then the pain would come back and I'd end up walking slowly home, discouraged, the doctor's words repeating in my head: "once you get sciatica, you usually have it for life". What was my body doing? Didn't it know I had a half marathon to run? Walking home from what was meant to be a 4-mile run, only to end after 2, Jon assured me that he was proud of me either way, and if I had to forego this year's race and wait until next year, I still had accomplished so much just by trying. It meant a lot to hear that, but I couldn't help but be upset. I decided then and there that I would find a physical therapist to help me work through this injury and keep training for the 2010 race.

Thanksgiving came and went, and my PT sessions were going well. I learned that my pelvis was out of alignment - a common symptom amongst runners - and that contributes to the compression of my sciatic nerve. They also had me working on core exercises, which would prevent the compression as well. I eased back into running (pain-free, at that!) and made it to one of my short term goals: The Five Miler. I left the gym that day so high off running; I had run for 5 miles over the course of one hour without pain, and managed to end knowing I could have gone longer. As Christmas approached, we decided it was time to book our trip. Jon and I felt confident that throughout the rest of the winter, I'd be able to get in the mileage I needed to be well prepared for the half.

Running wasn't on my agenda for the last week before our trip; I had hit my first double-digit run of 10 miles (another milestone!) a few days prior and was now in taper mode. Packing, running errands, getting my playlist ready, checking over and over and over that I'd packed my running sneakers... I was a stress case, to say the least. I'd done all that I could up to that point - race weekend was here.

First, you must know that we are self proclaimed dorks.

So it's only natural that we'd get a kick out of combining Jon's (and my future) last name Cunningham with the word run. Runningham. Told you - we're dorks.

We decided to start this blog to document our training together as runners. After reading a bunch of other running blogs lately (and especially the race reports from the Princess Half) we've been particularly inspired.

Jon's been a runner for years: ran through high school and college, was the captain of our college cross country team, and has continued running regularly since then. I, on the other hand, ran track in high school (I was alright, 6 minute miles. A far cry from what I run now.), ran cross country for a week in college, and ran only sporadically since. I've done a few 5K's here and there, but it's only been recently that I figured out why exactly people claim they love running. "Love" and "running" were two words I'd never think to utter in the same sentence, unless it was something like, "I love Snickers bars, not running." But during my training for the Princess race, once I reached the point where I could run 5 miles, it sort of hit me. I figured out a comfortable pace and after the first two or three miles, got into the zone, if you will. I stopped thinking about running and allowed my mind to wander to other things. Every once in awhile it came back to running, and all those wonderful little endorphins swam around in my brain (I say swam because the word endorphins reminds me of the word dolphins, and dolphins swim. Just pretend that it makes sense.) shouting "This is so much fun! Running is the best exercise, ever!", and I agreed with them.

It was at that point I realized 13.1 miles wasn't as far away as I'd thought.