It happened.

It happened.

All casual like and when I wasn't paying attention. The words just slipped out without me noticing. I called myself a runner. I said "I'm a runner, and....blah blah blah". It happened on Sunday, May 20, 2012. I was on the golf course. I was limping, because my golf shoes were killing my toe. In explaining why I was limping, the words just slipped right out. I've never said them before. I guess it's official.

I still remember the first time I said "I'm a golfer".  Like running, I was late to pick up golf. It was right before Nate and I started dating, and I got a hand me down set from my Mom, thinking that picking it up would be good for my career, as I worked in a male dominated field and it seemed everyone played. I grew up LOVING watching golf with my Dad, but never played. I was instantly hooked, and spent every weekend playing with Nate, reading golf magazines, we planned all of our vacations and even our honeymoon around golf, and I was completely enthralled with the game. Clearly I am someone who does not take up passions half heartedly :). I think that my field hockey background made the game come pretty naturally for me, and for someone who does not always have the best temperament for life, I somehow had a great temperament for golf. The first time I beat Nate straight up, I found myself pregnant about 2 weeks later. Interesting. I played throughout three pregnancies, I played through three nursling's, and I think that the apex of my golf career came last June when I had a hole in one and my low round of an 83. Nate started school in early August........ and my game now SUCKS! It just is TERRIBLE! I was AWFUL out there yesterday! Like, funny bad. By the back I pulled it together a little bit, but man does it go to show that you simply can't be good at something without faithful, diligent practice. I simply can't play much golf right now ~ school dictates that we don't have time to play together, and unfortunately none of my girlfriends play. And you know what, its okay. I think that if I didn't have running, I would feel a lot more sad and resentful about one of my passions literally collecting dust in my garage. As it stands, I came home from my high scoring round, grateful to have been outside on a breathtakingly beautiful day where I spent time with my husband and friends outside, strapped on my running shoes and got in 6 great miles before dinner.

I will say that my toe was killing me during our round. I blamed the stiff pointy toed golf shoes. I took them off as soon as we finished expecting to see a lot of blood, only to find that the problem was that the two band aids had slipped down off of the toe. Oh.Noes. It was raw, red, and angry. I cleaned it with alcohol and put neosporin on it, and taped it down before my run and it felt fine. I got in 7 this morning on the treadmill, took off my shoes.....and......well......maybe I should listen to Dr's more often :( It is red, angry, and clearly infected. Off to pick up those antibiotics he suggested this afternoon. I'm a total asshole patient, clearly. I don't know what is going to happen at this point. I'm a little obsessed with staring at it with a furrowed brow, which doesn't help anything, of course. Yoga tomorrow and then we head into the insanity of end of year preschool picnics and beach packing. I cannot WAIT for some long, flat, beautiful beach runs in my favorite town, and to spend time with my entire family.

You can't be good at anything if you don't do it. Talking about it does nothing. Do it. Do it faithfully, and you will be good at it. I promise.