The athlete deep inside.

Reading cjane's blog today reminded me of the frequent feelings of inferiority I experienced growing up as the ONLY non-athlete in a family of athletes. My dear father is one of the most competitive people I've ever met, and he passed that on to his children. All except for me. One time he got upset with me that I just didn't care to cheer for sports teams. He just couldn't understand how it was possible just to not care. (Simple, I tried to explain. You just DON'T CARE. There's really not much to it.)
I swam in high school, and I made it to state and took a whopping 14th place. Out of 16, if I remember correctly. And that's about it. I can't run worth a lick, I'm no good at sports like basketball and volleyball, and I don't have a competitive bone in my body. (When it comes to sports, that is.) My sister Kim, who is 18 months younger than me, is like Miss Athlete. In fact, she was Athlete of the Year (I believe twice) at SVU where she attended college. She was on their basketball and cross country teams and is probably still my dad's dream child because of how naturally gifted she is in the sports arena. My two brothers are both athletic, and everyone in my family likes working out. (Now that's what I have never understood. When did pain become enjoyable?)
But all that is about to change. You may recall how, almost exactly one year ago, I blogged about how I went running and I was officially part of the club. Well, I think my membership in the club expired, because that was the first, last, and only time I ran. A one-time use doesn't exactly keep you in the club.
Until yesterday. Our first visit to the YMCA as a family. We dropped our children off at daycare and went off to aquire our dream bodies. (Well, I did. Andrew just works out because he thinks it's fun. Who IS this guy??) We decided to run around the track for a little bit. 1/2 mile, to be exact. And guess what? I FELT GOOD. I was tired, of course, but nothing compared to other times I have run. (Ran??) I felt good afterwards.
So when Andrew went to lift weights, I went off to a Zumba class to get my Latin dance groove on. Today my shins are a little sore, but not my knees - which are normally the problem and the reason I stop running after 1 day. And I think I'm ready to run again tomorrow. Not a marathon or anything, mind you - just another half mile or so. Maybe I'll get ambitious and run 3/4 mile. I have been inspired by my friends Krista and Samye, who (I hope they don't mind me saying this) have rockin' bodies and are dedicated runners. When I see pictures of their skinny little thighs and flat stomachs, it makes me want to be like that.
Maybe my true genes are kicking in after all. As they say on Biggest Loser, "America, next time you see me, I will be 120 pounds!" Well, that's probably not true. I'll probably never get back to that beautiful number again. (If you weigh 120 pounds and you are reading this, I am sticking my tongue out at you through the internet. We are not friends. Until I'm skinny - then we'll talk.) But maybe I'm on my way to making my dad proud and living up to the athlete deep inside. And I mean DEEP. I think she's in there somewhere.