Running

I used to be a runner. I'm pretty much of a wimp, so none of that "running through the pain" for me. I'd stop and walk if it hurt, and bad weather kept me in. I discovered Track & Field in High School after I made the realization that I was too uncoordinated to play team sports. In Track, I was usually the only one I could hurt. I ran 100m, 200m, 400m and relays, short stuff in other words. My senior year, my friends convinced me to come out for Cross Country, they needed another body on the team. Thus I discovered long distance running (see "wimp" above.) I also discovered the silence, the solitude, and my breathing. I continued the 200m and 400m in college, but dropped out of Cross Country after the first week of practice, including 5 mile runs at 6 AM.

A friend convinced me to run a 5K race with her when I turned 30. "It's for a good cause." she pleaded, "and it's only about 2 miles."

A 5K is 2.2 miles, to be exact. But why quibble? I ran it. I beat my friend. I won a medal. I wasn't hooked, but...well...intrigued. I ran 3 or 4 5Ks a year for the next 2 years until I got pregnant with J. Most of the time, I got a medal too. Not because I was good, but because there were surprisingly few people in my age category: Female, 30-35. I trained on my treadmill at home, because we lived on top of a hill: 30 minutes at 50% incline and 3 miles per hour, plus a warm up and cool down.

Come to think of it, I've lived on top of a hill for the past 10 years. Living in town this winter, with the remarkably flat, remarkably wide sidewalks, the girls and I have been doing a lot of walking. It's been fun and educational. Yesterday we re-examined the tank at the VFW, peeked through the gate at the WU football field, counted 107 cars on the train going by, looked at the Middle School, inspected the old log Court House, and discussed the various forms of architecture around town.

Yesterday, I thought "I think maybe I'd like to start running again." Think of it! Running on flat, wide sidewalks, finding silence and solitude and time to myself and my own breathing. It sounds lovely until I look at the thermometer this morning. It's 28* outside, and still a bit dark-ish at 7 AM.

Maybe tomorrow I'll run.

T