I need to tell you that I don't like to run. And I don't like to talk about running. It puts too much pressure on me to keep it up, or to run more often, or to run farther, or to...whatever. It just puts too much pressure on me. I run because I should, I run because I need to get in shape for soccer season, I run because I think that one day one of my kids might run with me, I run because every once in awhile I experience that running euphoria which makes me come back hoping to experience it again, and I run because Sheldon makes awesome playlists. After today, I will go back to not talking about running anymore.
I need to tell you that it isn't easy making a funny man really laugh. Peter laughs at many things that I do or say but one of the things makes me happiest is when I can make him belly laugh. That laugh that erupts right from the gut, makes him hit his leg and wipe his eyes. This story had him doing all of those things and he insisted that I document it. I will, if only for the memory of him sitting on the back deck enjoying my tale.
I need to tell you that it is exhausting to live inside my head.
* * *
Last Sunday morning it was obvious that spring had finally arrived.
With every spring comes soccer season, and with every soccer season comes one month that I have to get back into shape. There was no better time than this to take my lazy winter's butt out for a run. It was only my second time out but I decided to take the back roads where I was in for 5k whether I walked or ran, but there was no opportunity to bail out as there would be if I were to take a neighbourhood route. It seemed like a good plan.
I laced up my shoes, grabbed my tunes, and headed out.
I began with a brisk walk to warm up a little.
At 2 minutes I started my jog. My pace was good - faster than walking but only barely, considering that I needed to conserve my energy.
At 2 1/2 minutes I was out of breath but that was okay. The first bit is always the hardest, the most painful, I told myself. Just focus on the music and on keeping this slow but steady pace.
At 3 minutes I was gasping. I felt like I couldn't take a full breath in. Screw the music, all I could think about was breathing. I kept trying to take a deeper breath in but it wasn't working.
At 3 1/2 minutes the struggling was worse. Something was seriously wrong. I couldn't get air. My lung capacity was diminished. And what about my heart? Now it was having to work harder to compensate. I should stop.
At 4 minutes I started to walk hoping that a small break would give me a chance to catch my breath. Should I turn back? No. I see someone up ahead and they are running toward me. I'll keep going and if I drop, at least they will see me and will call for help.
At 5 minutes I've caught my breath but I'll walk another minute and then run again. That's what the Running Room says to do. Run two, walk two. Plus I've got my safety net coming toward me.
At 5 1/2 minutes I realize that my fellow runner isn't moving. Crap. It's a mailbox. Holy, holy crap. I'm hallucinating. I need oxygen. I'm in the middle of nowhere and Peter isn't even at home to come and get me. He's at church with Juliana. They're praying for me, I hope.
At 6 minutes my breath has returned, I start to run again, my head is clearing, and I realize that I might just be okay.
By this time, I'm back to finding my pace, my Nike run app has just told me that I'm halfway to achieving the distance of my last run, and I'm feeling good. I realize that I've gotten through the pain of the first couple of minutes, just as I knew I could, and I settle in, listening to the sounds of I Wanna Be Sedated in my ears. See? Sheldon picks awesome (and timely) music for me.
An hour later, I'm back, sitting with Peter and he asks me how it went.
The rest, as they say, is history.
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