Running our mouths

UPDATE: I've lost my good blog looks to sensibility. My layout wasn't allowing comments, and what's the point of a blog if I can't interact with you guys? So, I've gone for a more sensible outfit for my Web home. Let me know if you can or cannot comment. But, I think the problem is fixed — in my non-expert opinion. 

While I'm here, I figure why not write another post. 

(If you're driving through South Highlands, this is exactly what my running partner and I look like. Exactly. To a T. Identical (Wink-wink). Well, except for the pants. Who the hell wants to run in pants?)

At this point every day, I start looking forward to 5 p.m. Not just because it marks the end of my work day, but it means it's almost time for a run. About three times a week, I run with my friend LJ. I let her map and time our run, and my only job is to keep one foot in front of the other. 

I would probably never do it alone. But with LJ's help and encouragement, I've gotten to where I can do about 4 miles. Truthfully, I hate running. I hate it when my heart feels like it's going to pop out of my chest, my knees feel like their going to burst and my legs begin to feel like two wobbly twigs. But I love it when I turn on my street, run up the driveway and know that I've pushed myself. 

It's a well spent hour of exercise, and in the few moments I have to catch my breath, it's a great time to catch up with my friend. My mouth is one of the many things that moves faster than my legs.