I’m not a petite girl… and I’m the furthest thing from naturally athletic that you can possibly imagine. In fact, I once sprained my ankle while carrying a basket of laundry down two steps in my home… no lie.
Is the last time I shamelessly wore a bikini without the benefit of dim lighting and alcohol… (It also should have been the last time I let my beauty-school-dropout mother cut my hair.)
So it may surprise you to know that I’ve run, walked, and crawled my way through several half marathons and even one (pain-) full marathon… that’s 26 point 2 miles… on my feet… without a pack of wolves chasing me. Yeah, I did that. And? I’ll probably do it again (uh, the half-marathon thing, NOT the full – I’m not insane, guys).
Most days, I have to fight my natural tendency to drive around the parking lot for 30 minutes to find a parking spot that will save me those 5 extra steps… it’s a fight that I sometimes win, sometimes lose, but always laugh about. I mean – if you can’t laugh at yourself, you probably need more bran in your diet, right?
I’m married to a naturally athletic outdoorsy type guy who has gained a net of 2 pounds of fat and 19 pounds of muscle during the last ten years of our marriage… all while eating what.freaking.ever.he.wants. I know, right? I don’t know how I haven’t smothered him in his sleep either, but… he’s pretty cute, so that helps.
We live in marshy Savannah, GA with our fur-baby German Shepard/Keeshond mix and her ever-shedding fur. We’re both IT geeks, love to travel, and spend more time (and money) on re-doing our house than we should.