When I dragged myself down to the treadmill this afternoon I saw a box propped up against my door. (Note: my front door is made of glass. It's like a big empty picture frame. For, uh, four years now I've been meaning to buy a shade. Oops!) I figured it was some sort of Electronic Equipment, the kind of thing my husband purchases online while I am half asleep, but NO. It was a package! For me! From Elizabeth! Containing seven [SEVEN!] cds full of Songs To Run To!
Elizabeth wrote a very inspiring post on how to start running. That combined with the series of running posts I found here (and wow, am I late to that party!) kind of kicked my butt into gear exercise-wise, but I STILL have yet to try running outside. [Hangs head in shame.] That one day I said I was going to do it... yeah, that didn't happen. I'm SKEERED!
But now I have running music, which is good because I have very little in the way of Running Music and even if I had a lot, the administrative garbage I have to wade through to load anything onto my iPod is discouragement in and of itself. (Something about not sharing iTunes, networked computers, different iPods, legality BLAH BLAH BLAH.)
You know what else I have? RUNNING PANTS.
Oh yes. I took myself on a therapeutic run to Target this evening (and I am NOT JOKING about the therapeutic). There were necessities on my list, yes, but when Phillip took Molly out of my arms and clucked sympathetically, saying, "Take as long as you want!" you BET I was going to take as long as I wanted. I've been through the housewares/clothes clearance racks a time or two lately and tonight decided that I'd sniff through the work out section. You know. Just see what kind of moisture-wicking spandexed kind of life I could be leading.
Apparently it is hot pink. Which is fine by me, you know, but not with spaghetti straps or teeny tiny skort thingies. YEAH RIGHT. I'm not hot YET, Target. I examined every rack of yoga pantsish things, but found nothing that looked right. But when I wandered into the unmentionables section there were a million more racks of work out pants and I struck gold.
I should note that I have a few pairs of yoga pants/work out pants already. I have real yoga pants, but they're all too long for me so the hems are ripped or otherwise ruined, the waists are either too big or stretched out, and when I try to run in them they fall down. I have a pair of stretchy Reebok capris my mom gave me when I told her I was taking yoga many moons ago, but those are actually too big now. And my super soft cropped pants from Lucy are torn and worn out. Because I [hangs head in shame AGAIN] wear these things every single day. I mean, sometimes I put on real pants (and I always put on real pants when I go out, SNIFF) but to wear around the house? Do baths and lunch and diapers and stories? Pants a step up from "pajama" will do.
Which is how I justified buying three pairs (THREE. PAIRS.) of yoga/work out pants at Target tonight. I only meant to buy something I could wear on the treadmill, but all three pairs fit in the dressing room and I thought: MIGHT AS WELL UPDATE THE UNIFORM. I bought a pair of tight stretchy capris with a white racing stripe on the sides, a pair of gray sweats that end at my knees (I'm thinking I'll wear those if I ever get the you know whats to run outside this spring/summer) and a pair of PETITE yoga pants that I wouldn't be embarrassed to wear to a friend's house on a playdate. Who knew they made PETITE! (I am not petite, by the way, but juuuust short enough so that regular pants are always an inch too long.)
I have heard that Lululemon makes To Die For Yoga Pants, pants that negate getting oneself a butt lift (which: how?) but I've also heard you have to take out a second mortgage to buy a pair. So it's Target me for me. I'm thrilled. I swear, it's like I bought myself a new wardrobe. (BECAUSE I DID.)
I ran a little more today and I'm relieved to note that a week of stomach flu has not put me back at the beginning. (Although I'm pretty scared to Shred. Sigh.) And I spent half an hour on the phone cursing The Baby Weight with a friend. This would be the same friend who was horrified at her Nine Months Pregnant Weight without realizing I was a full 25 pounds ABOVE that weight and NOT PREGNANT. So, you know, my sympathy is limited. But she's also the friend who hissed, "BETRAYAL!" when I told her I'd started Chubby Girl Slow Jogging. We talked a while about starting from scratch. You know- figuring out what to eat and how to be active when you haven't done either of those things well in a long time. Or ever. I relayed the Gospel of Jillian Michaels, we discussed jogging strollers, shoes, back pain, milk supply, all that stuff. And it felt awesome to be the one who's already doing it, you know?
(Okay, sort of. Elizabeth also sent me a giant bag of jellybeans and COME ON IT WAS A PRESENT.)