A little holiday jingle to get you through the weekend, ladies. Genius adaptation by Shelley Seymour, a BAMR in our most-recent Stride Through the Holidays Challenge.
Here's to a joyous, relaxing, mile-filled end to 2017!
—The AMR Team
‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, no electronics were humming not iPad nor mouse.
The Black Friday-deal running shoes were laced up with care, while socks warmed by the heater, ready to wear.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, as visions of Pokemons danced in their heads.
When I’d laid out my fancy pants, sports bra, and cap, ‘twas time to settle in for a long pre-run nap.
When from my alarm there arose a vibration, I thought about snooze but resisted temptation.
When what should my tired, stumbling feet find me near, but a hot cup of coffee and warm socks to wear.
As all BAMRs know, I must get out quick, before someone needs breakfast or somebody’s sick.
More rapid than eagles the headwinds they came, but badass and runner are my middle names.
On right foot, on left foot, I’m locking my cage. I’m calming my breathing; my heart rate is gauged.
To the top of the hill, past the oak trees and pines, I smile to myself, thinking this run’s all mine.
I crunch across dry leaves that in the wind fly and know that I’m stronger each day that I try.
Feeling more badass with each passing mile, I know I’ll greet New Year’s with a welcoming smile.
Down the next hill, this BAMR flew with a bound. My podcast was ending, so I took in the sounds.
I was covered in sweat from my head to my feet; I could hear my strong heart with each steady beat.
I stop for a runfie and sip of my Nuun, knowing it’s back to real life too soon.
I glance at my Garmin and switch it off pause, I run by blow-up Olaf, Elsa, and Claus.
My eyes how they water, my cheeks like a rose, I pull tissues from my sports bra to wipe at my nose.
I push back up the hill; a negative split will be tough. I repeat my mantras, knowing I am enough.
I wave to a runner, no fun and all work. Not even a nod; that guy is a jerk.
I pick up the pace, move my cadence along. I measure my breathing to finish this strong.
Then I see a BAMR and know she’s in my tribe. She runs joyous and free with a positive vibe.
As I turn down my driveway, I yell with a smile, “Happy holidays to all, and to all happy miles!”