I like the Idea of Running

My brother has always been a runner. He ran cross country track in high school and then the endless miles heaped onto him by drill Sergeants at Paris Island. He often says boot camp was his favorite part of his tour of duty. I liked the idea but hated the running.

My step-sister runs marathons; three last summer alone. She wants to do ultra marathons; I guess the distance that killed Euripides is not enough. She is one of those dedicated souls that will run for three hours after midnight, if her gig lasted too long into the evening. I liked the idea of running but it scared me.

My memories of running in my youth are ones of disappointment and various levels and types of pain. Always those damn shin splints, and the feeling someone is poking a poniard into your ribcage and slowly turning it. My breathing always sounded like staccato jazz.

I have been running. The first run this year was about a mile and the second about two miles. They felt a lot better than my memories. Cycling had made me fitter than I expected. The stabbing dagger and staccato breaths were gone, and I felt my cardio could handle the distance.

I went out for a third run at the pace of a dripping glacier. I did not know how far I would go but a trip to the YMCA and back seemed plausible. The first two runs I wore some beat down sneakers and a pair of old school Addidas respectively. Neither worked well, this outing I wore a pair of Tennis Court shoes, which offered some comfort and the feeling of Herman Munster clomping down the stairs. I could control my breaths and keep a steady plodding rhythm. I discovered later I ran 4.5 miles.

I got fitted for a pair of New Balance and have managed several runs since. I have kept with the same course, a few tenths shorter with a better route. Although those damn shin splints still remain they only last for about the first twenty minutes. My stride is starting to open up and feel natural. New muscles are awakening...

I like the Idea of Running

My brother has always been a runner. He ran cross country track in high school and then the endless miles heaped onto him by drill Sergeants at Paris Island. He often says boot camp was his favorite part of his tour of duty. I liked the idea but hated the running.

My step-sister runs marathons; three last summer alone. She wants to do ultra marathons; I guess the distance that killed Euripides is not enough. She is one of those dedicated souls that will run for three hours after midnight, if her gig lasted too long into the evening. I liked the idea of running but it scared me.

My memories of running in my youth are ones of disappointment and various levels and types of pain. Always those damn shin splints, and the feeling someone is poking a poniard into your ribcage and slowly turning it. My breathing always sounded like staccato jazz.

I have been running. The first run this year was about a mile and the second about two miles. They felt a lot better than my memories. Cycling had made me fitter than I expected. The stabbing dagger and staccato breaths were gone, and I felt my cardio could handle the distance.

I went out for a third run at the pace of a dripping glacier. I did not know how far I would go but a trip to the YMCA and back seemed plausible. The first two runs I wore some beat down sneakers and a pair of old school Addidas respectively. Neither worked well, this outing I wore a pair of Tennis Court shoes, which offered some comfort and the feeling of Herman Munster clomping down the stairs. I could control my breaths and keep a steady plodding rhythm. I discovered later I ran 4.5 miles.

I got fitted for a pair of New Balance and have managed several runs since. I have kept with the same course, a few tenths shorter with a better route. Although those damn shin splints still remain they only last for about the first twenty minutes. My stride is starting to open up and feel natural. New muscles are awakening on the fronts of my legs. I think there is a 5K maybe 10K in the near future. I like the idea of running and maybe the running itself.