"YOU DID THIS TO ME!" and other thoughts on labor.

So, remember those running shoes that I bought over a month ago and haven't really used yet?  Today was the day.  Last week I made my way to our (not so local to our locale) YMCA to sign us up.  The military recreation department here has a sweet deal that gets us a free membership.  How can you say "no" to that?  Granted, the setup is not nearly as swank as our Y in Texas was, but really, how can I argue with a place that I can go work out (for free) and have a safe (free) place with trained professionals to watch my children (for free), whenever I can cram time into my schedule to actually do it?   Like I said, how could I refuse?  And seeing as how this is the first time in years, yes years, that I even have the slightest desire to run, I pounced on it...OK, not really pounced, more like distractedly meandered my way towards it.  But it happened today.  I ran 2.27 miles.  OK, I only actually ran for like 1.75 but I walked very briskly while swinging my arms wildly for the other half mile.
I am a little worried about being able to walk tomorrow, let alone get out of bed.  Even after the drive home, getting out of the car to walk to the front door was nearly enough to collapse me in a fetal position on the driveway.  Jell-O, I tell you.  But I jogged on a treadmill with Regis and Kelly on the telly, good tunes in my ears and facing a huge window looking over the water so it wasn't all that bad.

I digress (typically I do that when trying to get to my point, that is, if I have one.)  Really, I wanted to tell you what my train of thought was on the way home from the gym this morning.  I would like to call it "Reasons why running is like giving birth."
It starts with the anticipation.  You get all geared up to do it and you may even get excited and buy yourself something new to wear.  Sometimes this build up of motivation and anticipation can take up to 9 months.  Then the time comes and you actually have to go through with it.  You may experience severe mood swings during the experience.  "Yes, I can do this.  Look at me go. Wahoo!" and then "I don't want to do this.  I hate this.  Why am I doing this?  I change my mind." And then perhaps a Black Eyed Peas song with the perfect punch and tempo comes on and you get all motivated to pick up the pace and turn again with fierce determination and motivation.  You have to find your rhythm, your pace, your breathing.  You may or may not have the urge to suddenly use the bathroom.  You may feel the panic of regret a time or two again before it's all over...it really depends on how long the experience lasts.  You pass through the ring of fire, the final push, if you will.  And it is over.  Then you are really proud of yourself.  You are probably going to be quite sore, but you will feel good and accomplished. 
Immediately afterward you will be voracious and need something to eat.  You will also swear that you are never doing it ever again.  Until later in the afternoon when that wears off and you think "oh, wouldn't it be wonderful to experience it all again?"

And those are the main reasons why I think running is like labor.

PS I had a funny moment in the car yesterday while driving somewhere with the gaggle of girls.  That one song came on, you know, the 80's "I touch you once,  I touch you twice, I won't let go at any price" bit.  I had to kind of laugh (OK I laughed about it today, yesterday, not so much) because it perfectly depicted what was going on in the back seat.  The bickering, my gosh the petty bickering.  Some songs I will never be able to listen to in the same way again.

PPS Swim lessons started up again.  I don't think the swim caps and gangly girl bodies will ever get old.  Or watching my children learn and accomplish something.  I love that Abby's cap is a little low and tight, ever so slightly squeezing her eyes shut, and Mia's seem to be as wide as they can go.  I'm not quite sure why Mia looks so concerned in every picture.  She has been asking 438 times a day "how many more days until swim lessons?"  In fact, I took them to dinner after and she asked the question again.  I just about had an embolism but decided instead to simply ignore her every time she asks that question for the next 7 days.
And this is my fellow spectator...I swear, those metal bleachers are going to draw blood before this is all over.  That, or we'll all end up with some kind of warts or fungus from having to take our shoes off on the pool deck.  Warm, wet floors make me want to vomit.  I might just have to buy myself some moc crocs from the drug store before next week.