Why we don’t run

I don’t run. Just don’t. In my thinner days I didn’t run and I’m most certainly not going to start now in my more, well, not-thinner days. If you see me running, you better start running, too, because something is
obviously chasing me. And if you start as soon as you see me, you’ll surely be fine because I’ll give out way before you will.

I thought I had passed this bit of Christy-wisdom on to my children. So far, Michael and Amy have chosen to get their exercise in different ways and have not given in to the dark side that is jogging/running. Rebecca, on the other hand, has decided that running might be for her. She’s gone out a few times to practice running. (Practice running. Where did I go wrong?!) Thankfully, in those moments I was an actual good parent and did not dissuade her. No, I encouraged her and sent her on her way, positive that running a few times would convince her that my position on running was correct and she’d give it up to pursue some other form of exercise. Like my favorite – chewing gum.

Last week Rebecca went out to practice her running – several of her friends were participating in a 1.5 mile fun run and she wanted to get ready for it. We encouraged her to give it a go, and off she went. About 20 minutes later she came back in the house, bloodied and bruised. She had tripped on a lovely, bumpy Michigan sidewalk and banged up both knees and hands. It was only after I cleaned up the unbelievable amount of blood pouring from her knees that I noticed her arm was not exactly lined up like it should be. There was an incredible bulge at the wrist on her right forearm that most certainly was not there when she left.

Long story short: she broke her arm.

She will have a cast on for at least four weeks. And it’s taken everything in me to not say, “THIS IS WHY WE DON’T RUN!”

I thought this little episode would cure Rebecca of her desire to run, but just yesterday she asked if she could join the track team in the spring. If I hadn’t given birth to that child I would seriously wonder if she were truly mine.

Guess we’re going to have to look for some good running shoes for the girl. And different sidewalks for her to run on.