I'm running my first 5k in 3 weeks.

It's a new thing I've learned to love. I decided on my own I wanted to race someday, I decided to start training and signed up for the race. One race turned into 2 and then 3 and now I have plans to run 6 before the New Year. I'm been shaving off minutes from my time everyday. I can do this! 

Running to me is similar to fasting. Running to me starves out the flesh, quickly. There's something about it to me, knowing by half way through the work out I'm spent and finding something, some strength, some reason to keep going. 

I don't know why I run. I mean I know I love being healthy, I love losing weight, I love seeing new paths, I love working at the gym, I love the goal of finishing a race but running, needing to move, wanting to move and get somewhere or go somewhere or work for something. I don't know why I do it.

I try convincing Abbi to sign up Izze for the KidsRuns at most of my races, in hopes of not having to go alone. In hopes of someone standing at the finish line and cheering me on. Maybe I don't run enough yet...that wanting someone at the finish line is still in my head.

Yesterday Jimmy wished me good luck. I don't even remember telling him about the race, he must have heard it in the small area we all shared yesterday. But before he left he remembered to wish me good luck. That was important to me.

Thanks. 

You know I have realized mostly the hard way that life is about choices. I'm there now, I get it and am trying so hard to move forward making the right ones. 

But then I realized yesterday life is also about being at the mercy of others choices. 

I guess I'll chew on that for a while...