|Remember her? The happy runner? She's back!|
Last night I went for a run. The first in… it seems like forever. It felt horribly wonderful. Terrible description, I know especially for those of you who aren’t runners who might not understand but there it is. Horribly wonderful. My running clinic starts in a week and I figured it was a good idea to get out there and see if I could still run for a full minute without falling over and dying (you’ll be glad to know that I’m still alive!). Just a short little outing, following the schedule we’ll be doing in our first class – run 1 minute / walk 2, seven times. I would know after that first 1 minute run if this was going to work or not.
Ah, the sweet sweet feeling of running. Waves of memories from the last two years flooded back as I ran down the block for that first set. I remembered running for five minutes straight on my treadmill for the first time. The 10K I ran in August. Keeping up with another woman who ran faster than I did because I really liked the colour of her shoes and I wanted to keep looking at them. Ok, not all serious thoughts but there they were. Mentally, I’ve missed running more than even I realized. My body… wasn’t as happy with my efforts.
The first interval was a little tough but I wasn’t about to pass out so I knew I was ok. After the third interval, my feet started to tighten up a bit along with my calves. Not surprising considering how little use I give them. Around interval five, my right hip/butt cheek started to remind me that I have more in my ass than just cellulite: muscle! By the end, I was winded and worn out, not to mention sweaty but I was also flying high on endorphins and enjoying moving once more.
I’ll never be fast and I’ll never care. As long as I move faster than I walk – I’m a runner. And it feels good to be able to say that once again.