So when we last left off, things weren't going well. Yours truly had hamstrings that didn't function and shoes that left her thwacking her feet on the cement harder than a jackhammer. First step- aquire new shoes. Thanks to Peninsula Runners and their groovy technique of getting you to run on a treadmill, then watch it back in slo-mo, you get fitted with the shoes your feet need. (It also helps when you tell yourself "I know the pink ones are pretty, but the white ones fit better" over and over.) Watching yourself back in slo-mo is facinating and terrifying. Well, I suppose if you're a good runner, it's not so terrifying. But as we've already established this "good" word is still missing from my running vocabulary.

Next step was aquiring a waist pouch with water bottle. I'll admit, I freely mocked those running with these in the past. Ha! Who needs water on a run! Water is the fuel of fools! *evil laugh* (As I sweat out an entire shaker full of salt.

Together, I thought we'd be good as golden. My magic shoes and my water bottle pouch would send me flying to the front of my running group. Together we'd conquor Everest in just running tights, a singlet and a small bottle of water.

Then we actually did the running clinic.

We ran about 6.5KM. To spare the gory details, let's just say yours truly once got so far behind, she stood at the top of the hill and hoped to see the rest of the group... somewhere. Lost, confused and completely defeated I waited for the one person who was behind me and together we plotted our way back home.

The follow week went so much better.

I seem to naturally gravitate towards running clinics that start from places surrounded by hills. Hills make you faster. Hill make you stronger. Hills are steep. Hills hurt when you run up them. Hills make you stop at the bus shelter "to stretch" and seriously consider handing the bus driver the 5 bucks you've got in your pouch and telling him to just keep going.

Our schedule includes a long run each week. Due to work, I cannot join in on the long runs with the group, so the onus is on me to do them on my own. Last week, the schedule suggested (OK, flat out told) that we were to do 12KM. I'll be honest- I had to stop to walk during this year's TC10K. I only walked for maybe a minute, but it was enough to stay with me in my brain that "12KM is impossible".

The morning of my run didn't start out well. My husband had to get up at 4AM (yes, that time exists) for work. I didn't sleep well because I was paranoid the alarm wouldn't go off. I stayed in bed for several minutes going over all the reasons I shouldn't run. I really should get back to that plan for world peace, y'know...

Next thing I knew, I was standing outside my car at the lake I planned to run around. Stupid world peace was just gonna have to wait. So I ran.

No, I mean, I ran. The whole damn thing. Without stopping. 12 entire kilometers.

Upon realizing what I'd done, instead of hugging a random stranger on the trail (which would have also resulted in me being dragged an extra kilometer as they were all running too), I air punched. I air punched in only a way those on the Jersey Shore and my former work spouse/sometimes running buddy Dave could appreciate.

Armed with my newfound sense of self, I went to my Tuesday night clinic ready to tackle whatever it is we were tackling. Turns out, it was once again, a very large hill. (I should have known when we were told to warm up run to a street starting with the word HILL.) Have you ever sprinted up a hill? Have you ever done it for 2 minutes at a time? I now have. There was no bus shelter. There was no crying. There was no getting lost. There was even barely any stopping to walk. And I'd like to point out- even a couple of the front pack at one point stopped to walk.

So. To that 12KM and to that ugly hill. I say SUCK IT.

Steph's back. And she's gotta brand new water bottle pouch.