At 7:30 this morning I did something I haven’t done since I was in high school, and as far as I can remember, I’ve never done before breakfast.
I ran four miles. In a row. Without stopping.
On purpose.
No, there was no one chasing me. Near the end of February, I had taken the boys to watch a wrestling tournament at Brandon High School. (Yes, the same fateful tournament featured in The Streak.) Watching those matches, I felt some of the old competitive juices flowing again. What if I got back in shape? Could I maybe step back on the mat, reclaim a little bit of what I once had?
The first step was the hardest. I got on my running shoes, went out the door, and ran about two hundred yards before I stopped, wheezing and spent. But somehow, I kept going.
Week after week, I kept going out, building my endurance and distance. I’ve run in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening; in town and on the road; once, I even ran with a hangover. As of today I’ve run more than seventy-five miles in about ten weeks.
What does the future hold? Next week I run my first race, a 5K, with my dad. The week after that, another 5K race.
After that, who knows? More miles.