Hamlet.

And for you Marky Mark junkies, Renaissance Man. Extra points if you said it like they do in the movie.

This above All to thine Own Self Be True.

But this isn’t about Hamlet or Mark Whalberg (or how hot he is, even though I could write several blog posts on that).

Two weeks ago, I blogged about Uber Me, the person who lives in my head that I’ll never be, but on that same day I started thinking about the authentic me.  Yes, the me that leaves clothes in the washer too long, but the me who I can be.

Big Daddy and I have spent some time talking about a vacation this summer.  A two week odyssey.  I’ve spent a few hours planning a route that will most benefit us, including  a few incredible stops on the way to our destination.  I was perusing hiking trails, searching only for easy because, IMO, I’m just too out of shape at this point to contemplate anything but that.  Now, I do have two little kids whom I totally planned on using as an excuse

“Well, we would have hiked HERE, but Littlebit has to walk and I thought it would be too much.”

That’s such a total lie as hardly anything is too much physically for Littlebit and what stopped me from packing a lunch and water and a blanket in a back pack and encouraging a rest along the way if Littlebit needed rest?  Nothing.  But she’s an easier excuse than to admit that since the shape I’m in is ROUND, hiking isn’t as easy as I’d like.

That kind of struck me.  What would I be passing up? Missing?  Not seeing on this amazing potential trip because of what I’d let myself become and what I wasn’t allowing myself to be.

Add to this the running dreams and the odd craving to run.

When I was pregnant with Baby Bee, I started to think about running.  I began to crave it like a thirsty person craves water or a pregnant lady craves ice cream.  I dreamed of delivering Baby Bee, lacing up my tennis shoes and running with the wind in my hair.  Of course, the reality is a lot different and three months post partum, I’m still craving running.

I dismissed an early morning outside couch to 5k with the dog a few weeks ago.  I’m a wuss and it’s DARK at 5:30 in the morning.

And then the dreams started.  Dreams about running.  My most recent found me running with my Mom.  Which isn’t really possible but we were there, running for pleasure together.  And I woke up the next day and realized I was talking myself out of opportunities.

Because I was stagnant in my place.

Because I was afraid.

Because it was easy to be comfortable and complacent.

I have a treadmill in my garage.  Given to me by my parents when we moved.  They needed/wanted the space in their bedroom and probably my Mom didn’t want the reminder that if she was able exercise again it would be a long time coming.  Maybe she realized that the chances were better of her becoming increasingly more disabled making the treadmill not only moot, but a hindrance in a small room where a disabled person would need more space.  Regardless, it’s sat in my garage for nearly three years. Untouched.  It was ready for the Salvation Army but two weeks ago I realized that every question I had could have an answer every concern a solution and so before dinner, I fed Baby Bee, filled my Klean Kanteen and hit the treadmill in the garage for 25 minutes.

I didn’t run.  I haven’t run.  Not yet.  But the ability is there, under my feet with every half hour I log.  Pushing me towards me.  This above all, to thine own self be true…