Am I a runner?

First off, thanks to everyone for the condolences on my grandma's death. She was a great lady. The services were so nice, and the priest knew her very well. He gave a great eulogy during the homily. Afterward, Saturday, many of us went back to my parents' house and stayed until bedtime. It was great to catch up with family we don't have unstructured time with very often. Turns out my cousin's husband is some kind of board game aficionado. He was like the cruise director for anyone he could rope into playing. I discovered that if you sat at the table, even just to see what was going on, you were in the game. No backing out! You were learning the rules to obscure board games no matter how little brain power you had at that moment. We asked if he's busy Fridays (when we have family dinner) because it was a lot of unexpected fun.

Now about running . . . I've been doing it. Yesterday I had the first run of my life that I can genuinely say I enjoyed while I was running. In my very short, very sporadic running life, I have only ever enjoyed it when it was done. You know, like, "Hey! I did it! I did something very unpleasant that is good for me!" But yesterday I caught myself smiling instead of grimacing. I found a comfortable pace. I looked at the clouds that were spitting rain on me and saw how pretty they were. I was even friendly to the barking dogs running along the other side of fences.

I'm not even too sore today. I can feel that I did it in that good "my muscles worked" way, not in that "I don't think I can stand" way. I'm dragging my husband out with me in the morning. I convinced him that it will be like a date. Heh heh heh.

Does this mean I'm a runner? Only time will tell, but I just may be after all.