I’m panting and sweaty and maybe crying just a little bit.
Yes, it took me longer to put on my shoes and to decide whether or not to take my dog-with-a-heart-condition or not than it did to run around the block. Yes, I realized that I didn’t stretch and didn’t warm up and it didn’t matter today. Yes, I realized about 1/2 way around the block, that I wasn’t going to make it the whole way around unless I adjusted my pace so I adjusted my pace.
I thought of the Penguin and how he started running. John Bingham was in my first marathon, by happenstance. I think I saw him waddling along chatting with a buddy somewhere on the streets of Chicago. Anyhoo, he upped and put on a pair of sneakers and ran around the block. Soon after, he coined the term “The miracle isn’t that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.”
So, why did I do it? Because my body chemistry is so fucked up that I have no choice. There is no anesthetic in pill or any other form that will edge out the fidgets. And, you know what? I’m a good runner. I know how to run. I have good form. I know how to do it well. I have skills. I simply refuse to use those skills unless I’m backed into a corner and this computer and my personal, internal chemical mix has become my corner.
I’m resentful and relieved all at the same time. I may never run around the block again but so the hell what. That’s then. This is now.
And, yes I took the dog with me. Waddle On.