Let that pony run.

Last summer, when I was focused mostly on getting out and shaking what my mama gave me, I knew I was going to need a new stroller, but I needed to give myself some incentive to get there first.  Over the winter, after I started Weight Watchers, I set a weight goal for myself - not my ultimate goal, but a significant goal nonetheless, promising that when I got there, I would purchase a new jogging stroller.  Of course, I amended my goal to include a loophole.  If Mother's Day came first, then I would get a new stroller for Mother's Day, but the incentive was to get to that weight goal sooner, so I could get the stroller sooner.

My stroller came yesterday.  4 full days before Mother's Day.

I had been following its progress from Chicago to St. Paul to my house with the anticipation of a kid watching Santa-Sightings on Christmas Eve.  When the email came yesterday morning that it had been delivered, I could hardly wait to get home.  I raced through changing after work, getting Finn a snack and hauling that big box out to the garage.  As I was putting it together, Finn kept calling it his race car, which made me laugh.  He tried to help me with the tools...a screwdriver in one hand and a hammer in the other, his "help" was limited to banging on the garage floor.

We took off on down the trail and it is amazing what a difference a good stroller makes during a walk.  I set a brisk walking pace to begin with and as we got deeper into the trail, as the sun heated up my back and arms, the need to run seemed to overtake me.  We started off slowly - I'm not much of a runner and I'm smart enough to know that owning a jogging stroller doesn't automatically make me one.  But as we got going, as I set the pace a little bit faster, it got a little bit easier.  We'd slow to a walk when my lungs were burning and then I picked up the pace again.  Our 4 miles consisted of a series of walks and runs and by the time we looped around to the park, my muscles were happily fatigued.

I met my match on the trail, that little voice in my head that sometimes says: "You can't do that."  I looked her dead in the eye and yesterday, I started running.

{52 Photos Project: Where We Meet}