The strangest thing started happening as I was walking through the neighborhood a couple of days ago. I tried to ignore it, but it just kept fluttering around the edge of my consciousness. It got worse yesterday, but again I pushed it aside.
It wandered through my dreams last night, too, but felt entirely too alien to acknowledge. Finally, I told Georgia. “Walking has gotten easy enough for me that I have been having this funny urge to try jogging a bit. But it scares me!”
“Go for it, Mom!” she encouraged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
So I got up and out this morning, and although I felt as though I wanted to try it, I didn’t really remember how. I was walking quickly, as I generally do these days, but my brain was resisting, telling me not to take any risks.
Finally I told my body to respond the way it would if I were hurrying to catch a ball one of the girls had thrown (knowing it wouldn’t take very long). And my knees and feet cooperated with each other. My heart-rate surged and I immediately remembered how long it had been since I last ran anywhere. I didn’t fall down. I didn’t hear or see any of my neighbors laughing and pointing. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it happened. And then, a few blocks later, I tried it again.
A year ago I wouldn’t have imagined ever attempting to jog again, let alone run. But I am so thrilled with how my body is responding to regular exercise, and how much better I feel from head to toe, that I can sense the possibility.
Just promise if you see a seasoned citizen jogging (however briefly) in your neighborhood you won’t point or laugh. Feel free to cheer her on as she ventures into new territory.