I ran the other day without worrying (much) about time, without worrying (too much) about distance, but just to prove that I can, indeed, still run.
It was slow, yes. And the discomfort (I say discomfort, because it wasn't really painful) came in cycles. First, my feet hurt and when that improved, it moved into my hips. When my hips started to feel better (or numb, whichever), the discomfort moved into my chest - as if I were breathing freezing air, but it wasn't terribly cold that day. When my lungs cleared, I was good for a time, until the discomfort became a little more uncomfortable and moved into my left shoulder and right thigh immediately above my knee.
I went out to run, determined to do a mile and if I felt miserable, eh, hell with it, right? It felt nice. I decided to do three miles, because hell, I can obviously do three miles. I still felt pretty damn good, "discomfort" all considered, and remembered that my previous "Half Marathon Training Plan" listed this day as a 10-miler. I can do that, right? So I aimed for 10 miles.
And my phone battery hit yellow and flashed it's warning at me. This was in mid-Mile 7. Immediately before I reached Mile 8, my phone's battery light reddened and glared threateningly at me. I didn't just run this far to lose all of my run information. I stopped at Mile 8.
8.07 miles in 1:43:17. Slow. Yes. But I can still do it. And that's what matters to me.
In other news: I don't know this woman, Meg Cross Menzies, but yesterday on January 13th, she was killed by a drunk driver while out on her morning run. A drunk driver. During her morning run. She was a year younger than me. If you run, and even if you don't, visit this link and run or walk, or bike, swim, or whatever your thing is, for Meg this Saturday, January 18th. And as the page says, "Be grateful for that moment."