… and I’m not talking about the country. I’m saying I ran. I actually ran. Because I wanted to. I actually wanted to run. How weird is that??

In trying to get my husband to exercise (because I think it will help him with his stress levels and fatigue and sleeping poorly), I decided to suggest a family walk this morning. Even before going, I had pictures in my mind of me breaking out into a run, and it felt good. So, we head out — and I had specifically suggested a brisk walk to my husband — he’s usually the one wanting to go fast while dragging me along — but this time, I broke out into a jog, and my husband dragged along behind. My kids started crying at seeing mommy running away from them… well, actually, the older one was a little perturbed but tried to keep up, while my younger son  just eventually collapsed into a heap where he was. So I ran back to them. I didn’t run much that particular time because my husband was dragging and my kids got upset. But it felt good. I also couldn’t run very far because I’m out of shape. But it still felt good to run.

So good, in fact, that this afternoon, I went for another run. It’s just down the street and back — I had intended to see how far it was by driving down the road and back — it’s probably at most half a mile each way. No, I wasn’t able to run the entire way. But I might build up to it! I ran until I was tired of running, then walked until I was tired of walking, then ran some more. I might go again tomorrow. So, yeah, I’m liking this diet!

[I weighed myself this morning, but hadn't lost any more. We'll see tomorrow what this running did for me. ]