I’ve seen lots of comments posted on Eat. Blog. Run. from newbie runners who like reading the stories from The Relay team here. Me too! My teammates inspire me and help motivate me to do more on my runs. But we all have different stories for the “how” we started running and, of course, the “why.”

When I first told my parents that I had joined The Relay team, my dad said, “Run six miles? You’ve never run six miles in your life.”

“Dad, I’ve given birth twice. If I can endure pregnancy, labor and delivery, I can run six miles.”

And so a running mantra was born.

I want anyone reading this blog to know that if you don’t think you can run, you should think again.

Two months ago I could barely run five minutes. Running has always been hard for body, mostly because I never trained long enough to give it a chance. Also? I have asthma and I never worked with a doctor to get it under better control while running.

Today, I clocked in four miles in just 42 minutes. And the word “ecstatic” just doesn’t describe how I feel about my training.

How did I do it?

First, I checked in with my allergist and came up with a treatment plan to get my lungs in check for running.

Next up? The running. My plan was simple: Block by block.

Every third day that I ran (5 days a week), I would add a block to my distance. One single block.

Baby steps, people.

My lungs were supremely out of shape and holy cow, did my legs hurt/burn/ache/cry-for-me-to-stop-the-madness. But day by day, block by block, I got a little stronger. And one day at about the 8-week mark, instead of stopping after a certain number of blocks I just kept running because if felt right. I ran for 20 minutes straight and covered about two miles of ground. A week later, I ran 3 miles. My body surprised me. I didn’t collapse out of exhaustion. In fact, I almost cried out of sheer joy because I can run! I can run! (I felt like Junie B. Jones as that thought crossed my mind.)

And now? Four. Whole. Miles. Rain or shine.

I’m still terrified of running my first two legs (12 and 24) of The Relay because I have some pretty decent hill work to cover. (Hill training starts in March. I’ll be using a “minute by minute” method.)

But like I told my dad, I gave birth twice. And that means I can do just about anything.

How did you start running? What’s your running mantra?

I come home after dropping the kids off at school and there she is, waiting for me in front of the kitchen door.

“You’re home!” I imagine her saying, “Let’s go! Let’s go! LET’S GO!”

“She” is my dog, Luna. And Luna is my training partner. My running buddy. My daily reminder that as soon as the house is quiet and my mind is clear, it’s time to lace up and hit the road.

She’s a Lab, a water dog, so running in wet weather does not bother her. Nor does it bother me. You run, you get wet, you come home feeling warm with runner’s high and drenched from raindrops, and then you take a nice hot shower. Luna? She splashes around in the endless curb-side streams that cover our hood then after she’s dried off, curls up on our bed for a snooze.

There’s another reason running in the rain doesn’t bother me: I’m terrified to throw my training off because of this thing called “Leg 12 and Leg 24 of The Relay.”

Yesterday was a downpour day. Three hard storms, back to back. I walked into the kitchen after dropping my littlest one off at preschool. There sat Luna, tail wagging and eyes shining: “Come on, lady, where ya’ been? It’s prime puddle time!”

Out loud I said “Seriously? You really want me to take you out in this weather? Because I’m not ready to run.  It’s messy out there. But okay. You want to do it? Let’s roll.”

Hat? Check. Jacket? Check. Long running pants? Check. Music? Check. Dog? Please. She was halfway out the door.

We hit the pavement and the seriousness of the storm hit me. It was far too cold, far too wet, for me to really run. I was drenched within minutes. My shoes were lakes.

The dog loved it.

I decided we’d just walk. A short 20-minute walk. About 10 minutes into it, I heard a loud noise through my ear pods. The flight path for San Francisco International airport is above our neighborhood and during bad weather, the planes fly just a little lower.

A few seconds later, another loud noise. I noticed the dog’s eyes were searching the sky, her tail still but in the air.

Thunder.

Which could only mean…lightening.

And here I was, drenched and walking in the middle of a tree-lined street with my iPhone attached to me.

I sprinted home (all of five long blocks). Within minutes of drying off the dog and myself, a full-blown thunder and lightening storm hit (storm two of three).

A bit later, the sun shined and the black clouds cleared the way for blue sky. If only for an hour. I wanted to go back out again get a “real” run in. But my running shoes were sopping wet.

It’s raining again today. The dog was waiting for me when I walked in the door. As I sat down at the laptop to write, she nudged my hands, wanting to know what’s different about this morning.

I know I can’t wait for picture-perfect weather to run. But the forecast calls for thunder and lightening. I won’t be caught in it. That little break in the pattern will come today. I’ll wait for the sun and blue sky to peek through.

I’ll be patient. And my shoes will be dry. At least at the beginning.