Nope, not the number of my creatnine, or my phosporus levels, or any other crazy amount of numbers that I deal with these days. Those are miles, baby.
I know that I said I wasn't going to log my miles, but c'mon, we broke the 3 mile barrier we've been butting up against, and it felt really, really good. Okay, it didn't feel that good when one of my partners made me sprint up the very last 50 yards or so, and I honestly truly wondered if I was about to have an asthma attack, but we did it. And I'm not even sore. I'm amazed, really, that I didn't feel any pain. That means we were going really, really, REALLY slowly. But hey, none of us are out for Olympic medals or anything, so slow is just fine.
My husband was the one who mapped the run, and he showed the map to my friend later in the day, the one who made me sprint. She was incredulous that we had gone that far (again, when you're moving slowly, sometimes progress isn't readily apparent). She then looked at me and said, "We can do this."
And I believe her.