Less of Josephine.

Not quite walking, not quite running — wunning. I’m a master. Yes it looks awkward, yes I feel silly, and yes I covet the grace and speed of other actual runners who pass me effortlessly on their way to 28 minute 5Ks.But wunning is a key step to hauling my own currently unimpressive cookies to an under-30 minute 5K. Without wunning, I wouldn’t be out there on the road burning calories, I wouldn’t be improving my cardiovascular performance, I wouldn’t be testing my mental endurance against high humidity and offleash dogs, and I wouldn’t be chafing the hell out of myself with industrial-looking running bras. Okay, so that last one isn’t so great. But the other three accomplishments more than make up for my ugly support gear.

So I’ll wun, and every day, little by little, the wuninng will begin to resemble something more identifiable as an actual track exercise. And every day, little by little, I will begin to resemble something more identifiable as a runner.

My 3 mile wun this morning counts for something even if it didn’t come in anywhere close to 28 minutes. It counts for fitness improvement, physical stamina, emotional wellbeing, and a future in those cute little running outfits in bright, happy colors.