Why I Love Running, Reason No. 79858732

The other day, I went for my first-ever twilight run. With an odd sense of motivation I don't usually feel after an 11-hour day at work, I threw on my stretchy pants and sweat-resistant top (hot pink, no less) and flew out the door, eager to get in a few miles before sunset.

And not half a mile down the street, I saw it.

"OMGABUNNY," I thought as I examined a brownish-grayish mass up ahead of me. Yes, I think in grammar-less, run-together teenager speak. Especially when it comes to bunnies.

I got closer and closer and the rabbit didn't move. I feigned non-interest, hoping he wouldn't run away. Then he did something amazing: he ran with me . Or hopped. Whatever.

But it gets better. On that four-mile run around Westland, I saw a total of seven bunnies. No, seriously. SEVEN. It was an animal freak's dream come true, and you are looking at the queen of people who obsess over cute and fuzzy things.

Conclusion? More twilight runs. And, just for you, a compilation of really freakin' cute pictures of bunnies, courtesy of www.dailysquee.com. If you love cute and furry things, you should make a daily visit to this site.

Submission to the Quality Health Newsletter

I sent my "story of triumph" to the the Quality Health website and newsletter today. It's sort of highfalutin, but that's the kind of thing they go for. Anyway, in case they don't choose to publish it, I thought I would post it on here as well...

I became a writer because I couldn't be an athlete. While my brother was joining the cross-country team and playing soccer, I was using doctor's notes to get out of running a mile or swimming a few laps in elementary school gym class. It's not that I didn't want to participate; it's that I knew I couldn't possibly do it.
I was diagnosed with severe asthma after a bout with bronchitis when I was six months old. Visits to the doctor, breathing treatments and an extremely overprotective mother quickly became a part of my life. I was a tomboy who wanted to be active, but would inevitably end up on the sidelines, wheezing and taking puffs from my bright blue inhaler. I can remember sitting at the front window of my childhood home, writing angst-ridden poetry while watching my brother start out for a run.
I spent plenty of time asking myself that big, unanswerable question: Why me? No one else in my family had asthma, and I felt as though there was something inherently wrong with me. I was depressed, unhealthy and a failure. My brother won track medals; I couldn't even breathe. I hid my asthma at all costs - even if it meant sitting through class or a sleepover at a friend's house with an attack. Anything was better than being the subject of attention as I struggled to breathe and used my inhaler in public.
As I got older, the doctors stopped saying "Maybe it's just a childhood condition" and I realized that I could either die, or find a way to live with this disease. And not just live, but live the life I wanted to - an active, healthy, happy one.
Now, with my 25th birthday just a few weeks away, I'm a full-time writer and editor (thanks to all that time I spent cooped up indoors) and, believe it or not, I'm training for my second half marathon. I take Advair every day and use my inhaler before running, but otherwise, I leave it at home
I will probably never be completely independent of medication, but it's an amazing feeling just to be able to run. I feel good about myself physically for the first time ever, not because I'm perfectly skinny or look good in a bikini, but because I feel strong and in control. My asthma doesn't run my life anymore. I have even started a blog to write about my experience in hopes that it will inspire others who think that they could never run a marathon (it's called See Jess Run, http://jesscanrun.blogspot.com). Eventually, I hope to turn my story into a memoir.
I haven't done the whole 26.2 yet, but I'm getting there. And that gym class mile around the track? No problem.