Aside from my occasionally lackluster attitude about going to the gym, 2 major obstacles stood in my way:

Shin splints. A couple weeks into running on the treadmill, I developed shooting pain in my shins whenever I ran. I voiced my concerns to my cousin, and she just urged me to tough it out till the muscles adjusted to our exercise. I naively agreed, and didn't alter my routine at all. Looking back, that wasn't the wisest or most informed decision I ever made, but at the time I was afraid that if I took a break from working out, I would never start back up. Eventually my shins adapted, but it took a lot of wincing and self-control to stay on the treadmill.

My second obstacle was blisters. I started out using a pair of running shoes that my parents had bought me a couple years prior. They were barely used, as I had rarely exposed them to any sort of surface other than the bottom of my closet. After a few runs, I developed a couple of pretty gnarly blisters on the bottom of my feet. Totally disgusting, right? I tried different socks (thick, thin) and I tried lacing up the shoes super tight or super loose. I refused to admit (though my then fiance insisted) that my almost brand-new shoes were the issue.

Finally, when I couldn't run because the bottoms of my feet were raw, I had to confess that I had a problem. Joe took me shoe-shopping, and we chose these bad boys.

Well, he chose the shoe, and I chose the color. If Joe hadn't been there to advise me, I would never have purchased such a thin, light shoe for $80. They hardly weigh anything, and you can bend them in half without exerting any effort. Definitely not the sturdy shoe that I had imagined. Little did I know, I would fall deeply in love with them during our first run together.

The urge to get in shape didn't immediately strike me. The dress had to be ordered and shipped from China to a warehouse in the U.S. and then shipped to our local bridal store. I didn't see the dress again for a while.

About six months after Joe proposed, my cousin Taylor and I were talking about working out. I knew I needed to get my body into shape if I wanted to really look good in a strapless, and she very sweetly reminded me about the required bikini-honeymoon photos. "Make me happy to look at those pictures." She told me sternly.

She and I went to the same university, and tuition included the gym fee.




We dabbled for a while before committing to a weekly routine. The first time we went, we ran a mile on the treadmill. It started out positive, us talking big and stretching like pros. I felt pretty confident. I was older and wiser and I had a goal in mind! 

Aha, so we meet again Mile!

About 2 minutes later: Why the heck *gasp* am I doing *wheeze* this again? Curse you, Mile!

All the horrible memories of public school PE came flooding back to me. My side was cramping and I could feel the asthma tightening my lungs. I was re-living all my past experiences. It was bad. I wanted nothing more than to leave the Rec Center and never go back.

Thankfully, Taylor is extremely hard-headed. She's competitive and has a will made of iron. She had determined that we would work out, and work out we would.

Do you remember me saying I got my first boyfriend senior year of high school? Well three years later Joe got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.

Hysterical tears and laughter were the order of the day. He really asked me! I have an engagement ring! I'm getting married! I weigh more than I ever have in my life!

Uh..wait a minute. I weigh more than I ever have in my life. Once the initial shock and thrill of being engaged to the love of my life subsided, I began to dread wedding dress shopping. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want the fuss, the opinions, the look of my body in a form-fitting dress (no way was I going ball-gown either.) I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

My wedding dress sort of snuck up on me. My grandmother, mother, sister and I were in Carmel, CA for a day and they suggested we look in a few boutiques. I reluctantly agreed. Eh, why not. My mom and sis teared up when I put on a flowy gown made of organza. It was beautiful, but the price tag made it clear it was not for me. The second boutique was smaller and a little sketchy...the owner was about 60 and had overly-bright red hair. She was about to close when we popped in. I tried on a sweetheart satin gown (about a thousand dollars cheaper than the first dress) and knew it was the one. It made me look curvy and held me in at all the right places. Love at first sight.

I loved how I looked in it, but as it was strapless, I knew I had some work to do if I was going to wow Joe at the altar.

My story begins way back in 4th grade. For the first time, our class was required to run a mile for P.E. This was when my parents discovered that I have asthma! I already had glasses and hung out in the library, so this was just the icing on the nerd cake. From then on, I nurtured my hatred for running. I was never athletic, so this test of fitness and endurance was torture. My hometown has about three weeks of good weather per year as a cosmic rule. Generally it's either blazing hot or freezing, so jostling through a field with a hundred other kids was not exactly "fun". Or enjoyable. Or even remotely satisfying in any way.

Fast forward to senior year of high school: I've been accepted to the university of my choice, I've been involved in Leadership for two years, I have my first boyfriend and an amazing summer ahead of me. Come the end of first semester, I fail The Mile. This means I fail P.E. Which means that unless I make up that semester, I can't graduate. You can imagine my bitterness that THE MILE stands between me and my diploma. I had good grades. Extra-curricular activities galore. I just couldn't run a mile in 10 minutes. This was when The Mile and I had the worst relationship yet. Shoes were thrown, tears were shed, names were called. It was a bad time.

Thankfully, I was able to take an additional P.E. class the next semester and I graduated on time. It wouldn't be till two and a half years later that The Mile and I would meet again.