I used to run all the time. Long distances. I can’t recall when exactly I stopped doing that but I do know it was pre-ipod/small mp3 players and had something to do with me not wanting that much alone time with my angsty thoughts. So it must have been when I was in my 20s.

I’ve wanted to get back into running for a long time and on Sunday I am doing a 5K in Long Beach. I haven’t run a “race” since 2008 and truth be told, I walked a good chunk of it with my friend Kelly.

Gingerbreadmama and Captain Fussypants, 2008

I’ve been half-ass training for this upcoming 5K and I don’t feel completely ready. I realize it is only 3.2 miles and that this race is attached to a marathon and a half-marathon, which are considerably farther distances, so I shouldn’t whine about 3 measly miles but am feeling nervous about it anyway.

This one is called the Run Forrest Run, aptly named – they must have seen me coming – because me running is more like a jog and after the spectacular, inebriated tumble I took at the Blink 182 concert, wrecking my knee, I’d consider my pace to be just above limping.

But I’m lucky to have a circle of trust and in it a dear friend who embodies the word persevere, who asked me what my goal was. Without hesitation I responded, “To finish”. She chuckled and said, “Then you’re ready. And then you can beat that time in your next race” (because she knows I am doing the Chapman 5K less than a week later).

So here I am, two days before my race and I guess I’m ready.