You have been preparing for this afternoon for weeks, getting yourself ready for your first push back into running. You’ve got your Minimus shoes, your wardrobe, and now your legs.
While supportive, I’ve been rather quiet about your desire to run again, for reasons that don’t matter. To be truthful, I want this so bad for you, so bad I can taste it. I want for you to be free, to feel that unquenchable awesome that comes with setting all of those sequestered endorphins free and making the road your bitch. I want for you to feel the exhilerating relief that “you did it”, or better, that you’re doing it.
I want for you to kick my ass. I want to be able to tell my friends that not only can my wife run, she can smoke me, and she can do it in those damned barefoot shoes.
I want for our girls to see you run. I want for them to see you sweat. I want to watch you show them how it’s done.
It’s time. Get your sexy on.
For my friends in the blogosphere – please take a second to pump my wife up for her triumphant return to running, tonight.
I love you baby. Go get ’em.