On track

I'm an athlete, and the reason I know is because, every Thursday, I run on a track. 

Track is the scariest training session of the week, and it's not the workout (although it's pretty tough), its the environment.

Track is an actual track, in a building shaped like a stadium, with a proper running surface moulding into a 400 metre loop. Track was used as the warm up track for the olympics. Track is filled with young athletes. Long legs, glutes of steal, six pack abs. You know the type. And they thunder down the track, carving it up in long, elegant strides.

Not one other person is anywhere near approaching being a 40 (and a bit) year old mother of a 19 year old child. In fact the only other people over 30 are the mothers that watch their talented children as they run, pole vault,  hurdle, or long jump around the track. 

Still, almost every Thursday I show up, and, rather bravely I think,  I run around the track a prescribed number of times while my coach times me. 

Which makes me an athlete too.