Apples, drills, and three long miles.

I ran 3 miles tonight. 3.02 total, I think. I don't remember. It's my last long run before Saturday morning at 8:30 am, when I'll be running my first-ever 5K.

I signed up a month ago, knowing that if I didn't plunk down the cash, I'd never go through with it. And I almost didn't anyway. Running is a struggle for me. But it's something I decided to do a few years ago, and I've (intermittently) stuck to it. Not consistently enough to make huge strides, but enough that every time I came back to it, it got a little bit easier.

This time I ran strong for about 2.5 weeks, after having run just a couple of weeks before Christmas, and taking a two week break.

And then I stopped.

My legs hurt, and I was faltering on even the shortest of distances. I was frustrated by someone else who picked it up after me and was making faster strides (and bragging about it). I became discouraged, stopped believing I could do it. So I took "a week off." Which turned into two. And a half.

A week ago, I decided I was going to try again, but I failed again. I'm not even sure I ran a quarter of a mile that day, at least not in a single spurt. I came to a sudden stop on the sidewalk, not far from where I'd started, fighting back tears and wishing -- against all wishes -- that this were easy.

Defeated, I walked up to the beach, took off my shoes, and waded into the Gulf, letting the cold water swirl around my legs. I thought about what I was doing, how frustrated I was...and how afraid of failure.

I realized that day that I was focusing on the wrong thing -- on the race. Instead, I needed to focus on every step, every breath, and every mile of the road in front of me.

I didn't run again until Monday, three days ago. With Nikki beside me coaching and encouraging, I ran 2.5 miles, letting out a loud whoop at the end of the route. I felt renewed, energized, excited.

And then tonight we decided the best approach would be to do a long run -- 3 miles or so -- and an easy run tomorrow.

So I struggled and fought and had to pee my way through 2.75 miles. And then, suddenly, it got easy. It even got fun. I blew through the last .27 miles, then slowed to a walk to revel in my accomplishment.

Last night I picked up my number for the race, but tonight I became a runner.

Tonight I fought through the hard and the painful and the generally uncomfortable to complete the task -- and to find out I kind of liked running after all.





P.S. With my parents' blessing, I returned the tools last night in exchange for a drill. It's perfect, and everybody's happy.

P.P.S. Jorge (mi computadora) got a brand "top case," which is Apple lingo for the keyboardal area. No more crack, and no more weird gunk -- even the keyboard was replaced. For free. Thank you Apple for your design flaws and for taking full responsibility to fix them.