Well, she just don't run like she used to. . .

I went for my first run in 11 months this week, and it was, for a lack of better words, sad.

Try #1

I have been missing my evening jogs for a while now. Missing them, longing for them. . . So, you can imagine how excited I was when Erik called me one evening last week at 5:30. I could hear his radio in the background, so I knew he was in the car on his way home. Hallelujah!! 5:30 is early for my Erik, so I was thrilled. I immediately suggested to him that we take turns running. He agreed. So, as he walked in the door, I high-fived him and headed out! I was walking on air, smiling at the setting sun! It was a good day, or so it seemed. . .

I am not much of a warmer upper or a cooler downer. I just like to run. So, I did my token stretches. You know, just in case Erik looked out the window and saw me start to run without stretching. The last thing I wanted was some lecture about research proving the benefit of stretching prior to exercise in the prevention of sports related injuries. That would definitely be a downer, and I was in much too good a mood for that - no matter how cute he looks when he lectures - all professional and everything. I just wanted to be out on the open road and feel the wind in my hair (if only there was the slightest breeze - but you get the idea).

Anyway, I didn't just want to go for a leisurely jog. No, that would be much too layed back and easy, and three words that will never describe me are layed back and easy. No, I wanted to not only run 2 miles, but to run them in my old time. You know, my old time, my best time. Never mind the fact that since I last ran 11 months have passed, one baby has been had, and 15 pounds have been added to my frame. None of that really matters. I had something to prove to myself. So, I looked at my watch and took off like a shot!!! As I began running, I smiled thinking to myself about how nice it will be to walk in the house and brag to my husband about how good I felt and how fast I ran. I'd tell him my time, and then dare him to try and beat it! It was really a nice little daydream. I enjoyed it quite a lot, and that is a good thing because it was the closest I was going to get to being able to boast.

I really did feel good. . . at the beginning. But, honestly it didn't last long. I think it was at the 1/2 mile mark that I noticed my ankle was hurting a bit. No biggie. I'm tough. I have run through side cramps that would have left a weaker woman on her knees, or at least walking. So, I continued. A few minutes later my knee started hurting. I slowed my pace a little. It got worse. Sharp pains, hard pains. But, I kept running, with a serious limp. I couldn't quit. Neighbors passed me and waved. Their looks of pity confirmed my fear that I looked like a wounded race horse who refused to give up long after she should have. But, I kept on. . . for a while. But, finally at about the one mile mark, I quit. I hate that word. Quit, gave up, gave in, began walking. And, if you were looking carefully, you just might have seen a little drop of water coming from my eye, maybe. It was a sad day for me as I walked with a slight limp back to the house. I had hardly been gone 10 minutes. I wanted to smile and tell Erik that I was finished and I felt great. But, that would not only have been a lie, but also he never would have believed me. So, with my tail between my knees, I walked slowly up the driveway and into the house.

I'm just thankful he didn't ask me if I stretched really well prior to running.

Try#2

Well, I couldn't give up after just one try. Erik got home at 5:30 again the next night, so I got all dressed up in my running duds ready to hit the road again. Erik instructed me to run and walk. Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. . . I wanted to run. So, I decided to pace myself and run very slowly. I started out at a turtle pace. I ran about a half a mile, and my knee hurt the entire time. So, I decided that Erik may just know what he's talking about, and I better follow his advice and walk for a while. After a few minutes of walking, I tried to run again to no avail. My knee felt like it was just about to pop, and it hurt in a way that made me afraid to run on it for fear of doing far greater damage to it. So, I went back to walking.

As I topped the hill I like to call heartbreak, I heard a gang of dogs barking and running towards me. No biggie. I know these dogs. They have bothered me for years. Except this time I notice that there is a new dog. And, it isn't just any ordinary new dog. It is a fully grown dog of the doberman pincher breed. I'll admit that my heart may have started beating a little bit faster at this point. But,I reminded myself that I am not afraid of big dogs. I mean, after all, the first dog I ever owned was a Newfoundland, and I am now the proud owner of a Weimeraner. Big dogs, Smig Smogs. They may sound horribly scary, but they just want to lick you to death. I've always liked big dogs.

The only problem was that this big dog didn't like me, at least not on its property. It growled, it barked, it lunged, it ran circles around me, putting its mouth against my calf over and over. I really thought it might bite me. I have not been that scared in a long time, perhaps my whole life. In the distance I could see the owner of this crazed dog running after it yelling, "Zelda, Come, Zelda, Stop." Well, Zelda wasn't listening. Zelda didn't like me. And, I thought the owner was never going to get to me in time to save me. His driveway is probably an eighth of a mile long, so it took him a while. The Doberman was much faster. He finally got to us, grabbed Zelda and leashed her.

Thank you.

He apologized, but all I could say was, "I had no idea. . ." I had no idea that they had a new dog. I had no idea that the new dog was so aggressive. I had no idea that my run could get any worse. My hurt knee was enough. This was over the top. It was time to head home.

So, I, once again, walked with a slight limp back to the house, but this time there wasn't just one tear in my eye. There were more like one hundred tears pouring forth from my eyes - if only it could have been sweat running down my face instead of tears. I walked into the house, took one look at Erik, and said what I had been thinking the entire time I walked home, "I just want to run." I don't want my knee to hurt. I don't want scary dogs to attack me. I just want to run. . . like I used to. He assured me that I would, in fact, run again, patted me on the back, listened to me ramble about Zelda for a few moments, and then went out to run.

3 miles.

Without knee pain.

Without meeting Zelda along the way.

But, I'm not bitter.

Not the least bit.

So, what is the moral of this story? I'm leaning somewhere between. . . Pride comes before a fall (or a meeting with Zelda). And, more research proving the benefit of stretching prior to exercise in the reduction of sports related injuries.