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OK, enough boring web talk. Let’s move on to today’s post:
Remember how I recently lamented about how much I missed running, since my baby girl’s sleep regression was causing me to choose much needed sleep over pounding the pavement most mornings?
Well, guess what? Isabelle decided to start sleeping at night again! At least sometimes.
It’s a start – I’ll take it.
So after a couple consecutive nights of decent sleep, I found myself lying in bed one morning after Tim had taken Isabelle downstairs feeling like I could maybe drag my butt out of bed and get out there. (Incidentally, it’s really funny how the definition of “decent sleep” changes after having a child. Pre-baby, if I got five or six hours of sleep, it was a really rough night. Now, if I get a stretch like that, I feel like I won the lottery and spent the day at the spa.)
So there I was, feeling somewhat rested with my darling girl in my husband’s very capable hands for at least another hour. You would think I’d be throwing my running shoes on and joyfully racing out the door. But I wasn’t. After all my pining away for my running life to resume, I was stuck. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to run. I felt nothing but dread.
I hadn’t run in a month and I knew I’d be starting over. Again. I knew that running a mile straight would probably have me sucking wind, that my legs would feel like lead and my midsection like jelly. I felt kind of hopeless – like I would never get back to where I once was as a runner.
But then I remembered that it’s all about taking that first step – putting my feet on the floor. So I did that.
And then I stood up.
And then I put on my running clothes, shoes and watch.
And then I walked downstairs and told Tim, “I’m going for a run,” before I could change my mind.
I ran a mile and a quarter – very slowly – and called it a day. There was nothing refreshing or exhilarating about this run. It was a plodding, wheezing, painful slog on a hot and humid morning. But later when I pulled up my online Runner’s World training log, I could check off a workout after a very long stretch of empty white boxes on the calendar, and that was pretty satisfying.
The next day I was so sore, I felt like I had just run a marathon. I had to ease myself up and down the stairs. It was a little embarrassing. But Tim assured me that once I got a couple more runs under my belt, I’d feel a lot better. He was right. I’ve run four out of the last eight days. Each day, I felt a little stronger. Today I ran two miles straight and I felt pretty good, like I could keep going. I feel excited about running again.
It’s a start – I’ll take it!
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