So I ran four miles last week. I walked for teensy little bit, but I sure as heck ran four miles. I realized that I’m much better at this running thing when I don’t define it (yet) as running non-stop, but include a few little shut down, catch-my-breath moments in there.
But the run was good. It was a drizzly morning, and I had on the new shoes, and the comfy socks, and off I went. New music helped, and I felt like a million bucks crossing 1.33 miles. and then I pushed a little, and felt my lungs give way to some more breath. and kept going.
Then I got tired. Woof tired. I should have slept in tired. So I took a little walk…all of those 0.02 miles helped. Immensely. I found my wind again, and took off. 2 miles. Done.
Turn around, start jogging back. Get that “obligatory” I’m more than half way there high that you get running towards a finish line that’s “somewhat in sight”…on I went. Walk a little more. Heave a little more. Hurt and pain, a little more. Maybe I’ll suck it up today. and I did.
Kept going. Over the bridge. Reach the tree. Just a little further. If you get to the traffic light you’re nearly there. You’re “allowed” to take a break if you get “this” far. Those sorts racing through my head. Breathe a little. Kept running.
Then I looked up. and made four miles. at a 12 minute pace. Not too shabby my friend. Not too shabby. Now you can do a 5K, and even that crazy relay Sir LAA has you involved in. You can do this. You’re a runner.