A Brief History: Part II

The April I turned sixteen, my father insisted that I get a job. My initial performance working as his receptionist the previous summer clued my people-savvy father into the fact that his eldest daughter needed a serious confidence overhaul. I think it was the bursting into tears the first time I answered the phone.

(I did get better.)

My protestations that I could babysit were met with raised eyebrows. Because exactly how does supervising and cleaning up after children increase your social confidence? He told me to get a job by the summer.

Enter Schnucks, the local grocery store, where several of the parishioners's children got jobs as customer service representatives, also known as baggers. By June I found myself as one. 

And at the end of the day after bagging groceries and ferrying carts to and from the parking lot, I found myself sore. I couldn't remember the last time I had been sore.  Lo and behold, my brain had reconnected to my body.

More importantly, during a brief dating stint with a co-worker, I discovered how badly I wanted to be able to run without having to stop every ten minutes while red in the face and wheezing.

After a badly botched jog in the park with said co-worker (His sentiment was something to the effect of "Hey, I enjoy the fact that as a chick you're actually giving it your all, huffing and puffing, red in the face, and sweating like a pig, but - dude - I need to train? So...I'm going to leave you now and actually run this loop non-stop."), I gritted my teeth, wanting to run without stopping, too.

But before I could do those 4 hilly miles, I needed something manageable, like the cul-de-sac loop our house sat at the end of.

I ran one, I walked one; I ran one, I walked one. Only after did I drive my car around it.

It was only a quarter of a mile long.

Those first run/walks were always after work at night, when no one could see my red face and hear me huffing and puffing, practically puking. I ran lightly out of necessity, allowing my feet to feel the cracks in the sidewalk and the branches fallen from trees above, and after awhile, I wasn't dying.

I was flying.