Do you remember that high school teenager that could run? I mean... actually run. I'm not talking about running after your three year old, or the dog when it tracks mud onto your freshly cleaned floors. I'm not even talking about when you catch your one year old stuffing crayon into her mouth and you have to chase her down before she chews (and swallows) them.
Once upon a time, twenty years ago (okay, not really-- it was nine), I could run. Not in track or anything (ha!), but I didn't feel as if I needed to catch my breath just chasing down a runaway five year old in Walmart.
This year, I WILL get into shape. My friend told me the other day that we're going to do a couch to 10k run. Yes, there was a 'we' in there. At this point I can't imagine a mile, let alone 10K. I'm not certain if she's delusional, or if she's conspired with my husband to murder me.
So that's goal numero uno this year. One hot mom body coming up. Hopefully.