Taking it to the streets!

I must admit that my renewed interest in running started in the most unlikely of places. The dark, dank, and dusty utility room of my basement. There, tucked in a corner next to a cold exposed brick wall and a weird cork board key holder is where my treadmill is situated. I begged my husband to buy me a treadmill soon after we bought our house. See, we'd previously owned a treadmill when we lived in a spacious apartment with a sun room. We could run on it while in the comfort of a heat controlled room, and watch the outside runners dodge rain drops and dogs. Truthfully, I think I used it twice. When we moved into our condo there was no room for our beloved machine (ok, ok, Kelley's beloved machine). I asked my best friend if she could take care of our dear treadmill since her apartment had space. She happily obliged, and unbeknown st to me placed our treadmill on her deck so she could enjoy the feel of an "outdoor" run. Now you would assume she lived say in Arizona, where it would make sense to leave a heavy piece of electrical equipment outside. You would assume wrong! She lived in a Chicago suburb that had the same lousy a@@ weather that would preclude anyone from leaving a dog outside, let alone a treadmill! (I should note that this lapse in judgement is not an indictment of my friend, she is a very lovely woman and fine doctor, who really just lost her mind). I didn't discover that she killed our machine until we bought our current house and I went to retrieve it to resume using it, if only for the third time. I felt like I lost a friend, or at least someone I bumped into twice at Starbucks. I needed another treadmill to fill the void of the one that I used twice, then not at all for three years. Reluctantly, Kelley bought me a new one, and placed it in the aforementioned section of my basement.

The first week I had it, I ran on it 3 times. The first year, I ran on it, 3 times. I layed clothes on it to dry all the time. I stored boxes on it lots of times. Who wants to run on a treadmill tucked away in the utility room of a basement? Why did he waste our money on that? Oh that's right, I begged. After a year, and my acknowledging that tucking my stomach in my pants was not cute, I took the clothes and boxes off the machine and started running. At first, it sucked, but then overtime I began to relish the time I had alone. I started from barely being able to run/walk a mile, to running 5 miles. I could watch Maury declare that Tashon was the baby daddy and get my workout on too(again, don't judge me).I could wear my sleep cap, hole ridden shorts and early morning eye boogers and not worry about "running" into anyone.It was wonderful, igniting a passion for fitness and health. So as I began to pre-train for the marathon, I thought i had a leg up on the others in my running club. I could run 3 miles easy, and was ready for the challenge. That was until, I took my running to the streets and out of my basement. Let's just say, it ain't the same!

The street kicked my ass..........