Water into gold and a whole lotta Fat Boys. And some running.

Water.  Water is such a blessed thing.

I ran 6.5 consecutive miles for the first time yesterday morning.

By the end, water was worth gold to me.

(And apparently Mark Sullivan can turn water into gold…sort of.  Anyone watch Shark Tank?)

I remember the first time I ran 3 miles, back for the 8th grade 5k.  My motivation to finish strong was the competition to place in the top 20, which list was to be displayed in the library.  (Because the library was Mecca for cool kids…)

Without incentive of my name in the library for bragging rights, I'm not sure what motivates me to use running as my form of exercise.  Why, oh why, do I let my muscles burn and my mouth turn to cotton and my feet overheat?  As a dancer, I embraced such physical discomfort for the sake of the performance.  When I was so tired I wanted to fall over, I would remember that I was creating beauty, a beauty to be shared.  I stayed on my toes with my aching arms looking weightless over my head as I smiled and twirled during that final toughest part of the 18 minute piece, because I would not be the one to break the magic. 

But my running is not beautiful.  At least not at mile 6.  (Remember, hot and sweaty with dry, heaving breaths and awkward, drag-me-to-the-end steps.)  And I'm not performing for anyone, except maybe tired newspaper boys and stray cats in the early morning.  So what motivating factor am I to use to get me through to the end?  Why don't I stick with Yoga?  

Today, it was sugar: Keep pushing, Kels! Make up for those 2 Fat Boys from last night and for the 3 more you know you’ll eat today!

And a running partner who is faster than anyone I personally know.

And that, when I finish, I can drink gold.  I mean water.