you make me feel.

On Wednesday, I had convinced myself to go to the gym.

I was in class talking about how I was going to the gym.

I made several references to my exercise habits and talked about how it made me feel so good afterwards.

I came home and had zero motivation to go to the gym.

Boyfriend was on the brink of being convinced (by me) to stay home. Instead, he made the bold choice to go to the gym.

I... I just couldn't face it.

I spent hours building myself up, trying to get myself in the mood, bargaining and swearing that I would actually go. Boyfriend tried to talk me through it, and together we found that my issues with the gym were really issues with time. Going to the gym means 20 minutes on the elliptical then 30 minutes of weight lifting then an hour of running back home. The thought of having to do all that was just... ugh. And I just couldn't talk myself into going to the gym when I felt like the elliptical time was unnecessary, but then that only leaves 30 minutes of weights which is just a waste of gym clothes. If it takes me longer to get dressed than I would actually spend exercising, then you can probably guess that it's not worth it to me.

But then there was still the hour of running.

There was no reason why I couldn't just do the hour of running. No one ever said exercise only happens in a gym.

So I'm standing in my apartment parking lot in my running tights with no destination in mind, only thinking that my usual pathways weren't going to cut it. I wanted to explore.

Perhaps exploring rural Iowa at 9:30pm in the dark in 28 degree weather isn't the smartest thing to do, but I felt the urge and I chased it. I chased it to the highway, down the large unlit boulevard, into another town. Literally another town. To be fair, it's Iowa and leaving city limits isn't really that big of a stretch, but I did it. In the cold, in the dark, on Wednesday night.

I went as far as I felt safe going, knowing that my iPod had tracked me to be somewhere around 4.5 km from home. I looped around, and at 8 km I realized I wanted more. I took a side street that I drive by at least four times a week that I didn't even know existed and followed it until I found a familiar intersection. Coincidentally, it led me right behind my gym building. I ran past the panels of windows pitying the suckers for puffing away on their machines that lead them nowhere while I was learning the secrets of the road.

The dropping temperature and my lack of water quickly dictated that I take my run home and I landed on my front steps a few hundred meters shy of a full 10k. An hour and fifteen minutes after I started my run, I was sad that I didn't carry more water with me because I really could have gone a few more kilometers.

Slowly, unintentionally, my mileage has increased. I started running with the intention of signing up for a 5k race but when that opportunity passed me by, I kept running. I thought about waiting for my friends to catch up to my level so we could run together, but I didn't want to wait. So I thought, what about a 10k? And the idea has been lodged in my head for months waiting for the opportunity to hit me in the face. On Wednesday, I proved to myself that ten kilometers is just a typical Wednesday night run, so the next step? What comes after this?

I never wanted to be a marathoner. I never wanted to be that person because races and medals and bragging on Facebook isn't really my thing. But I can't imagine not having a goal.

So even if I never sign up for, pay for, formally train for, or complete a competitive half marathon, I think that's next on my to-do list. It only feels natural.