My sister text messaged me the other day.

We should run a race.

She says this a lot. She was ill. I chalked it up to fever.

Then she switched to other topics. Hometown gossip, mainly. I let it go.

Next day, I get an email about her birthday. Snuck into the bottom is,

Also, Jennie, Mikie, and Jon, here is the race I have decided upon…

A 5k. In May.

It included this: So stop being pansy babies and start running.

So I did the only logical thing one can do with older sisters: I started running. She sent me a training schedule that I knew I could not start, because Step 1 was run a mile and a half. Doubt it. So I found a website on “How to Run a Mile” which was exactly what I needed. I am not following it exactly – I am basically running until I can’t run anymore (which is not very far, don’t worry.)

Here’s what it comes down to. I started on Friday. I ran a mile on the treadmill. It took me 15.5 minutes. I took Saturday off, rock climbing instead, and ran again yesterday. I ran outside, and it took me 17 minutes. I chock that up to weather, shoes, and terrain. And because my arms were so sore I could barely lift them. And because I am bad at running, mainly.

Today’s an off day, and since my arms are still sore, I took it as a completely “off” day, but I did get this yesterday at REI, so I won’t be having many “off” days from now on, since I am going to want to run this sucker up.

Tomorrow, I have to face the treadmill again. Not looking forward to it, but I’m determined. Or maybe I am just scared of my sister…