I've always wanted to be that girl. The one who clearly made exercise a priority. She's the one that you see at all hours of the day, in all sorts of weather. And she looks happy about it. (Though, of course, she is usually spandex clad...which is lovely, because she is that dedicated that it works for her. I don't hate her for it, really.) But I've never been that girl. Until yesterday. (Not the spandex part, mind you.) Yesterday I made up my mind that I needed to run, because I'm a goal sort of person, and I've set a goal. (Read: lots and lots of goals, about lots and lots of things.) I've decided that 2012 will be the year I finally become a runner. And I figure in order to do that, I actually have to run. So I did. Even though it was cold and rainy, and even though my tennis shoes now look like I went around stomping in mud puddles. (Which I did NOT do. Nope, not me, I'm definitely not a mud puddle stomper. I'm too grown up for that sort of thing.) And while I was a huffing, puffing, soggy mess, I felt accomplished. Because before I never would have been committed enough to run in the rain. No one was around to see, but had they been, they might have seen that girl. Only this time, it was me. Yeah, I'm that girl. The one who runs in the rain--knowing it's completely ridiculous, knowing that I shouldn't, but having a delightful time anyway.