Short, Slow and Painful

And I can't wait to do it again. 

This morning, for the first time in longer than I can remember, I dragged my sorry butt out of bed and went for a run.  Okay, it was a jog.  But it was more running than I've done in over a year - since before we moved to Wisconsin and I found out I was pregnant.  (To be clear, I did exercise when I was pregnant.  I swam laps until my doctor put me on restrictions, a precursor to my bedrest.  I just hadn't done any running since then.)  But this week, after a long talk with my husband about how I need some time to be inside my own head, I found the strength to wake up even earlier than normal and tie on a pair of running shoes.  

I was excited as I dug out my earbuds from the bin of tangled miscellaneous home electronics cords and  began to stretch my legs.  I found Ke$ha on my playlist, reminded myself that my body would likely not respond kindly to what was about to happen, and strode purposefully down the driveway.  As Ke$ha kicked into high-gear, so did I.  And then I promptly dropped back a notch.  I was two houses away and already my knees were complaining.  I was determined to run as much as I could of my normal lunchtime walking route.  There's even a hill.  I didn't have to deal with hills when I was running in Chicago, so I think I get some extra credit for taking this on.  

The whole thing took about 10 minutes and I went about a mile.  The me who used to do triathlons thinks it was a pretty pathetic outing.  But the me who has gone through some pretty major life changes in the last two years and can be honest about my current fitness level is proud.  I did it.  I started.  I got out of bed, I put shoes to pavement and damn if I didn't manage to run the whole distance.  My knees may be angry with me, but they'll get used to it.  If I can do this once or twice a week for the rest of the summer, I know I'll feel better about myself and I'll be able to gradually increase my speed and distance.  I'm not trying to break any personal records and I don't think I'll ever get my body back to where it was in my mid-late 20's.  But this isn't about my body.  This is about my mental well-being and taking some time to do something purely selfish that makes me feel good about myself.  

I'm grateful that my hubs is completely supportive and I'm already thinking about the next time - in a day or two, after I've rested my knees a bit.  In the meantime, I think I need to work on my playlist.