The next month starts out with five-minute blocks of runs, which I’m pretty confident I can do, as long as I start out slowly. By the end of next month I'm supposed to be able to run for about 22 minutes straight, which makes me laugh and laugh and laugh. Then I wipe my eyes, catch my breath and laugh some more. I'm nervous about it, but excited to give it a shot.
You see, I think I'm starting to like running.
In some of my jogging intervals, when I'm at a comfortable pace and not watching the clock, I have that feeling that I guess most runners get when they run—something that's close to joy.
My kids run constantly, but as an adult I won't even run to catch a plane.
I haven't run since I was a kid. There’s something about running that is tangled up with childhood for me. My kids run constantly, but as an adult I won't even run to catch a plane. So when I'm jogging on my treadmill, I go back to the time when my body could do anything, when I felt like I had no limits. And for this almost-40-year-old, that's pretty magical.
Wish me luck on month two!
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