I have this recurring dream where I am trying to get somewhere and my legs won’t work properly. I can’t pick up my feet, I can’t move forward, it’s simply dreadful. I pretty much felt this way at work today, and I worried tonight’s run would be more of the same. However, I have not been running since July and I was determined to begin again.
I made a bargain with myself that I would only run for 20 minutes. I could hang for 20 minutes. This would work. Of course it was a rigamarole getting ready to run. I wanted to put in a load of laundry while I ran, including the pants I had worn to work today. Since I had gotten sweaty at work, I took advantage of this. I stayed naked while I filled the basket with laundry, then put on my running clothes (sorry if that gave you an unfortunate mental image) (then again, what are you doing picturing me naked? Shame on you, you dirty-minded thing, you!).
Of course I was still sweaty. I put powder on my upper body, but my second sports bra still rolled up as I put it on and I couldn’t reach the back to unroll it. I hate when that happens! I got it, though, because, like I said, I was determined. If this is too much detail, tough. I calls it like I sees it. I almost got out the door before I realized I had not thrown the laundry in. Back up the stairs to retrieve the basket, then down to the basement. I figured it could count as my warm-up.
Usually when I run, I make a left at the end of my driveway and head to German Street. If I have not been running in a while, I head to Caroline Street, then go up and down the streets, working my way back home. I decided to mix things up, so turned right and headed towards Meyers Park. I even crossed the street and ran down the opposite side from my house. The sun came out from behind a cloud, showing me that I had not picked the shadier side of the street. No matter. It was my first run of beginning again, and I was going to persevere.
Persevere was what I had to do, because I never hit the I Can Rock This stage. I won’t say that every step was an effort, but a goodly number of them were. I tried to distract myself by looking around. Mostly I noticed other people’s porches and wished I was sitting on a nice porch, perhaps enjoying a beverage. I had told a work friend that I might reward myself with a glass of wine after my run. Suddenly I remembered… chocolate milk! When I was training for the Boilermaker 15K, I got in the habit of re-hydrating with chocolate milk. I read somewhere that it is an excellent recovery drink. I must say I enjoy it quite a bit. I knew there was milk and chocolate in my refrigerator. That thought sustained me for the rest of the run.
I ended up running for 22 minutes. I felt pleased with myself that I had gone at least a little over 20, especially since the devil on my shoulder had been whispering that 15 would be just as good. The cool shower felt wonderful, and the chocolate milk was heaven. I probably won’t run again tomorrow, because I have rehearsal for The Tempest (no, that is not over yet, and I will no doubt write more blog posts about it), but I hope to run on Thursday. Sooner or later, I must hit that I Can Rock This stage.