This morning I wanted to take my new running shoes out for a test run. I’m not sure they’re the right shoes for me but the guy at the running store told me to use them for a couple of weeks until they can get another shoe that might be better.
I had in mind a fairly level and easy three mile sidewalk run by a lake. From the grocery store parking lot to the end of the sidewalk and back. But when I got to the parking lot, the wind was strong enough to shake my Honda Odyssey. And my idea of a run.
I called my husband at work. Just to make sure he’d gotten there in time for his early phone call. And also to get a little sympathy or, maybe encouragement, about my run. He confirmed his on time arrival. And then he suggested I try a different route that would be less windy. There’s another sidewalk in town that makes a 1.7 mile loop in a much more sheltered place. It winds down a hill and then sharply up and down again only to end with a long and gradual up to the aforementioned parking lot where I was sitting. While the sidewalk winds around town, there’s only one short section that gets blasted by wind off the lake.
OK. I didn’t get the sympathy so much. Just a different way to do what I wanted to do. It worked. I ran in the opposite direction to my original plan. By the time I got back to the parking lot where my car was rocking in the wind, I was warm enough and feeling good enough to keep going. I think it was about the 2.5 mile mark when I realized I was good to go five miles. The wind felt good in my face. And I smiled as I ran.
As I ran by the lake and looked at the sky, I remembered a poem: A Runner Went By. It’s something I wrote a few years ago while I was running. It’s in the style of Mike McLintock’s A Fly Went By. And as I thought of that poem, I started thinking of some other things. And then I realized I was running free. Free from the “I really should go out for a run, but I’m not sure I want to” thoughts that could have derailed the very run I was running!
I had my Garmin watch recording the run. And I did look at it a couple of times to see what my pace was. But the more important thing to me was that I was out there. Able to run. Wanting to run. Running. Not impossible. I’m possible.
Prior to a 5K my husband signed me up for in July of 2012, I had only run a mile at a time. Reluctantly. In grade school. That 5K was the week before I turned fifty. Because I saw some people at the starting line running extremely slowly, I decided I could run the 5K extremely slowly. Like 46 minutes slowly. But that was enough to start. I did it.
Since then, I’ve run other races. I have t-shirts from a few 5K’s. And some more t-shirts from a five and a half mile race I’ve run with a 70-something year old friend I met at Jazzercise. I’ve run (and completed) two half marathons. The best runs are easy six milers with my husband on our local rail trail.
None of this running would have been possible if I hadn’t learned to live with my sugar addiction. The I’m Possible Journey has led me to so much more. So much Maureen!
In addition to the cook book I’m working on, I have a lot of words written about running. Perhaps that will turn into: The I’m Possible Runner: Running Commentary from a Recovering Sugar Addict. I’ll try to keep the run on sentences to a minimum.
What do you think of that?