I was a bit worried after my first run back earlier this week. I was sore. (That was probably more due to the Jillians Michael video I did that day as well.) I felt lazy. I worried I had lost the running gene from my inactivity over the past months.
Tonight, though, I was reassured. It was late, it was getting dark, I had other things to do, but I really wanted to just get out and give it a try. For a second, when I hit that cold December air in my shorts, I thought I had made a mistake. A couple minutes later, once I got going and got my iPod situated, I started feeling like a runner again. After a couple miles, I was bargaining with myself to stay out longer- even though it was completely dark and I knew it was time to shower and get ready for supper.
I am a runner. I am so grateful that I've put in the miles over the years to make me one. And the wonderful thing about running is that is all it takes-putting in the miles. Not talent, not speed, not fancy equipment. Sigh, I have such a strange love affair with running. How have I survived without it for the past few months?