the first and not to be last post about jogging

I hate jogging.  I always have and I am pretty sure that I always will.  I have dabbled with it through the years - always searching for that "runner's high" - so elusive and coveted.  My thought is that if I can train myself to like it (or just tolerate it) that I will magically age with the grace of Cindy Crawford (and can't we all agree that she is lookin' mighty good?)  But once my feet start moving my mind says "when can we stop this nonsense?" and I don't last long.

So I have enlisted a running partner - Lola.  On a good day, she inspires me.  On a bad day, she stops and lays down on the running path.  She isn't the most consistent... but then again, in dog years she is around 47 (so the online conversion chart just told me).  I hope at this point you aren't worried that poor Lola is being run to death.  My version of jogging pretty much allows her to walk full stride next to me - we aren't breaking any records here.

But I digress.  I need to get this jogging thing figured out.  Over margaritas back in NYC a few weeks ago my husband and my sister had me pledge my allegiance to run a 1/2 marathon with them this fall.  The fact that it is in Italy certainly helped sell it, but I am blaming the tequila for pushing me over the edge to agree.  At this point, I am thinking that it might take another cursed margarita to get me through the actual race.

My running partner