I’m panting and sweaty and maybe crying just a little bit.

Yes, it took me longer to put on my shoes and to decide whether or not to take my dog-with-a-heart-condition or not than it did to run around the block.  Yes, I realized that I didn’t stretch and didn’t warm up and it didn’t matter today.  Yes, I realized about 1/2 way around the block, that I wasn’t going to make it the whole way around unless I adjusted my pace so I adjusted my pace.

I thought of the Penguin and how he started running.  John Bingham was in my first marathon, by happenstance.  I think I saw him waddling along chatting with a buddy somewhere on the streets of Chicago.  Anyhoo, he upped and put on a pair of sneakers and ran around the block.  Soon after, he coined the term “The miracle isn’t that I finished.  The miracle is that I had the courage to start.”

So, why did I do it?  Because my body chemistry is so fucked up that I have no choice.  There is no anesthetic in pill or any other form that will edge out the fidgets.  And, you know what?  I’m a good runner.  I know how to run.  I have good form.  I know how to do it well.  I have skills.  I simply refuse to use those skills unless I’m backed into a corner and this computer and my personal, internal chemical mix has become my corner.

I’m resentful and relieved all at the same time.  I may never run around the block again but so the hell what. That’s then.  This is now.

And, yes I took the dog with me.  Waddle On.

Significantly,

Susan