I have a confession: until Tuesday, I hadn’t run a lick since completing the half-marathon at the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon race May 1.
I’ve gotten exercise. I’ve played softball and soccer. But I hadn’t used my running shoes at all.
Not one mile.
I let a disparaging comment about my slow speed get the best of me after the race, and my running came to a grinding halt. After two months and some encouragement from friends, I decided that maybe I just needed to choose another race. If I could set a goal and choose a date, I’d have a reason to hit the pavement (or the treadmill) again. I dreaded it and put it off as long as humanly possible, but Tuesday I grumpily headed for the gym.
As I laced up my shoes, I felt a wave rush through my body. What was overcoming me?
I put on my shoes as fast as I could and smashed all my stuff in a locker. I skipped stretching. There was no time to waste. I hopped on the treadmill and ran. Fast. Hard.
Ok, so it was probably too fast. I had to slow down after just a mile. But I didn’t care. I lip-synced like no one was around, though if I was alone I probably would have sung as loudly as I could have between breaths. I was practically dancing. Honestly, there were a few moments when I was doing some actual dance moves. Then I decided this was probably dangerous, so I narrowed it to just arm movements.
I’m looking forward to running this weekend. My family and I are going out of town, and I’m taking my running shoes with me. It feels good to run again.