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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.