Where there's stank, there's a smoke?

I am a smoker – but I haven't had a cigarette in more than four years.
I smoked off and on from the time I was a teenager to my late 20s, quitting often and never succeeding. And then, one day, I realized there was something seriously wrong with my breathing and I was an out-of-shape tub-a-lub.
Four years later, and with asthma as my souvenir from those 12 years of smoking, I'm still always a little worried something will reignite my need to smoke.
I don't think non-smokers have any idea what it's like to be a non-smoker around cigarette smoke. Sometimes it smells so awful I could gag. Othertimes, I think it smells absolutely de-lish-ous. Nothing has ever matched the succulent pairing of a glass of wine and a cigarette - except maybe, maybe bread drenched in the pooling butter in escargot.
We were out and about today and when we got back in the car to come home, I smelled cigarettes.
"What's that smell?" I said to my husband.
I started sniffing my coat, my pants, the car chair, his jacket.
"What are you doing?" he snarked.
"I smell cigarettes," I told him.
He looked at me like I was crazy and then told me I was crazy.
"Your being neurotic, you know," he said.
Somewhere in my car was a cigarette. I didn't care that he didn't believe me. He's never been a smoker so he has no idea of the pull of a butt's smell. (Yes, some butts smell good. Who knew?)
After a 10-minute drive home, we pulled into our driveway. I went to get my toddler son out of the back seat of the car and I just knew where the cigarette was. I could sense it. I ripped my son's winter boot off his foot and turned it upside down. And there, wedged in between the thick treads, was a cigarette butt.
I love it when I'm right.

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Run, Sarah, Run!

If you had asked me anytime from 1996 to 2004 - the formative years I was a student at Queen's University and a new reporter at The Kingston Whig-Standard - I would have boasted that I loved smoking and I never regretted indulging in my habit.

I smoked off and on from the time I was 14 years old until the time I was 27.

I quit for good about two and a half years ago.

But when I was a smoker, especially when I was in my young 20s, I'd drive past (because I was a smoker I always drove, never walked) people running in their snazzy leggings and running jackets and would always secretly wish that I could run, too.

I would never have said it out loud but I secretly longed to be able to go back to those days in high school when the insecure part of me chose to take up hardcore smoking instead of pursuing team sports that I'd played all my life. Something in me back then thought it would be much cooler to be a party girl than an athlete.

And I never looked back.

Until my 20s when I lived in Kingston.

The thing about Kingston is that there are bloody runners everywhere. Runners around Queen's. Runners downtown. Runners in Portsmouth Village. Runners on Bath Road. Runners. Runners. Runners.

I tried running once when I was a super smoker. The very athletic ex-boyfriend could attest to the fact that I was a sad sack of poo that day just trying to run around the block. He ran behind me, singing Jennifer Lopez songs, trying to propel my fat ass up the hill. By the time I got home, I was wheezing so hard, I thought my lungs were going to implode or explode - basically disintegrate.

I'd decided over the past few years that I could be a nonsmoker but I was never going to be in shape. I could be a skinny size 10 but in shape? Not going to happen.

Then I got pregnant and gave birth.

Once you give birth - yes, it is miraculous - everything else seems unbelievably easy. Run a half marathon, you say? Hah! Bring it on.

I also decided I wanted the best for my baby and that means eating well and exercising so that when he is five, 10, 15 years old, he will also eat well and exercise. I want him to live the fullest, happiest and healthiest life he can.

I started running in the beginning of January with Tracie Smith-Beyak's Learn to Run group. Her company, Body Now 4 Mums, gets new mommies going - and going hard. We run seven or eight kilometres every week together.

And now the big news: Today, without the support of my running mamas, I took to the streets in Kingston's Twosome 5K race. It was the first time I've ever pinned a number to my chest. It's a high.

I had three goals today:

1) Not to come in last place;
2) To run in less than 35 minutes. Two weeks ago, I ran five kilometres in 36 minutes so I was hoping to shave off a minute;
3) To run, not walk once.

I can proudly say, today was a great day in my life - no, not nearly as exciting as giving birth, but nothing will ever top that. With just half a kilometre to go, I picked up the pace and passed a couple of people. I didn't come last.

I ran a good 33-minute race - two minutes less than I was hoping for.

And, I ran the entire thing.

Sure, I got my butt kicked by 99 per cent of the runners but I still did it.

Today, I was not that out-of-shape smoker staring at the runners from my car.

I was (am) a runner.

Next race: The 10-kilometre run in April.

And then maybe the half marathon this fall.

I know many of you don't actually believe I did it: So click here and check out number 123.

It's the new weight-loss-fitness secret no one has ever written about: Have a baby.

(Thanks, Little Man.)

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