Four years ago, after finishing my first season as an assistant track coach at my former high school, I decided to get myself back into shape. When I was 22, I could run sub-five-minute miles, so at 29, I was still too young to have sixteen-year-old girls running circles around me. I bought some new running shoes, grabbed the stopwatch I had received as an end-of-season gift, and headed out of my driveway on what I knew from long experience to be a run of almost exactly two miles. My mistake was taking the watch; I glanced down at the mile mark, and was disheartened to learn that I had covered the first mile in just over nine minutes. I stopped running halfway through the second mile.
Recently, I found an excuse to begin running again, so this is the beginning of my running diary.
Day One - 1.5 miles. Maybe a little more. Didn't bring the stopwatch, but it felt like 8:30.
Tomorrow, I must remember to wear my actual running shoes, not the ones I use to walk the dog. Those shoes are worn out; I don't feel it when I walk, but it sure did hurt to run in them.
Speaking of Ginny, I had always suspected that she would be a bad running partner, because she is so easily distracted on our walks. It turns out that she has no problem following right along without stopping. The problem, however, is that she can't run the whole way. I had to let her off the leash a few hundred yards from home, so that I could finish running, and she could trot on in at her own pace. I'd hate to have tried this on a hot day. Maybe I can run first, and then use the walk as a cool-down.