Tonight I was able to push harder again. I took extra care stretching before and after, and though my left leg grumbled at me a bit, it kept it to a dull roar and so I was able to ignore it.
After warming up, I started running, and instead of just switching to walking by the timer, I felt capable, so I just decided to see how far I could run without having to slow down and walk. Three minutes. I was elated.
It may not sound like much to you, but in such small, silly increments is my progress measured. The fact that I was able to run for three minutes solid is new to me. It’s not something I’ve been able to do for quite some time now, and I’m aghast that it’s been this hard just to get back to that point.
But I did. And I’m very happy to see the progress.
I didn’t feel “good” tonight, going into it. I didn’t feel like running. I was feeling lazy. But I stretched, and I got on the treadmill, and I just started going. That first three minute run did all sorts of good for my morale, but I didn’t feel all big and manly and covered with hair like I did on a run a while back. I just didn’t feel bad. I felt ok. I felt capable of pushing harder, and I did. It was nice.