I Am The Tortoise

I think I figured it out.   I think I'm okay with it.   I think I've discovered something about myself that was bothering me for some time now that I've decided maybe I shouldn't be bothered by at all.    I am the tortoise.  

I'm not the hare, I don't plan on getting there quickly.   I'm not talking about every day things like cleaning up or talking or getting errands run or many other things I can think of that fit into my daily life, because I do seem to have a lot of energy and I do move quickly.   But when it comes to exercise, I'm not the speedy one.

I don't run the fastest; in fact, I'm the slowest one of all my running friends.   I've apologized many, many times to my friends because I believe I'm holding them back speed-wise.   My neighbor is consistently a few steps ahead of me while we run.   But I get there.   I get there and I don't stop.

I was biking with my husband the other day and he was getting tired.   He hasn't been training for a marathon and there's nothing quite like running for five hours straight to get one's cardiovascular system into serious shape.    I just don't get tired.   I might be breathing more heavily because I'm exercising, but I'm fine to keep exercising.    I told him we'd have to bike for another couple of hours for me to get tired.    But the thing is, I wasn't biking aggressively.   I didn't feel like proving anything to anyone about how I could bike up that hill with my son on the back and beat everyone else on the block.   I just don't care about that stuff.

We were doing "Sugar Bush Sprints" this morning at the gym.   This happens every spring when our trainer decides to send us outside to the street on which there is a steep block of sidewalk pavement.   We sprint up and come back down a certain number of times.   I sprinted up with the rest of the group and I wasn't the fastest sprinter in the pack.   But I wasn't tired, so I just jogged back down the hill because, heck, my cardio was warmed up.

I get there with the workouts too, but I don't get as many pushups or burpees or squat thrusts or plank jacks in as the other people, but I'm still there and I make it to the end.

I think I've decided I don't mind being the tortoise.

The Big Boy Update:  My son found a branched stick yesterday.   He told Papa it was a blood pressure machine.   He brought it inside and at the end of the day we put it in their cabinet after he went to bed.   This afternoon he found it again.   He went over to Uncle Jonathan, who was sitting on the couch, did some work with the stick and told him his blood pressure was sixty-nine.   Then my son headed outside.   Seconds later he returned and placed the stick on the table saying, "I'm leaving it here to keep it away from the beaver."

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Sometimes as I'm sure many other children do, my daughter eats lunch, gets in the car and upon arrival at home fifteen minutes later says, "can I have a snack?"

Fitness Update:  Sugar Bush Sprints this morning.   It's been about a year since our trainer had us leave the gym in the dark and run up and down the sidewalk hill.   I'm just glad he didn't have us do it with t pounds of weights on our backs like he did last year.