I Only Run When I'm Being Chased or My Hair Smells Like Cheese

was catching up on my blog reading and my bloggy friend, Lisa, is like a running machine over in Australia. Which reminded me, I've been running for 3 months and I haven't blogged about it once.

Which is in stark contrast to pre-pregnancy 2011 when I documented every dry-heave and booty clap via blog.

So, here's the deal, Folks. I have turned into a runner. I can run my own little 5Ks like a machine. I started out barely running 30 seconds in a row. 

I pretty much strap on my shoes, throw my hair in a pony, and plug in some ear buds 3-4 times a week on the regular. Which is the most consistent working out I've done since before my wedding.

Wanna know my secret?

I have a contract with myself.  I only get to wash my hair if I've gone for a run. And since my hair pretty much turns into a solid after 2 days, this incentive works.

You're welcome.

Other running gems of wisdom from a gal who would rather sit on the couch stuffing her pie hole with food:

 * Anxiety is normal. I've realized that just like walking out the door is part of the process, so is my mini panic attack every time I lace up my tennies. Sports bra- Check, Deoderant- Check, Heart Racing With Fear- Check, Playlist Loaded- Check.* Boredom happens. I get bored easily. I've found running through different neighborhoods and getting just a little lost helps.

* I downloaded this app. It turns my run into a game and hey- hearing some groaning, panting zombies coming for me helps light a fire under my ass.  Plus, it's all British and "The zombies are coming to eat your face! Cheerio!"

So, strap on your kicks and hit the sidewalk or treadmill. We'll all dry heave together!

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