Run (stumble, gasp, trudge) a mile in my shoes

Tonight I ran.  It was a mile.  You wouldn't have wanted to have been in my shoes.  I'm light years from where I was when running was fun, ok more like 17 years but you get my point.

I ran cross country in high school in my sophmore through senior years and my one year of college.  There was the one year of track my senior year of high school too.  I had my mind made up that I would run the 800 and mile in track, but my coach wanted me in the mile and two mile.  I thought he was nuts, I mean 8 laps around that track.... boring dude.  He was right and I actually ended up liking the two mile better than the mile.  I mean, who cares that half the crowd checked out or started watching field events by the 3rd lap.  Maybe that's why I like NASCAR, the more laps there are the better it is.

Cross country was a whole nother animal.  In high school a race was around 3 miles and practices were 5-8 miles.  8 milers were called LSD days.  Not the drug, but some days when it was real hot the drug would have been the preference.  It stood for Long Slow Death.... I mean Distance.  Oddly enough, I liked it.  In college a race was 5 miles.  We had one or two 3 milers that didn't count but they were almost like sprints at that point.  Practices were closer to 8 miles for a short day and LSD's were upwards of 12.  Some of you might have to put your eyeballs back in your head, but if I remember right (alot of college is hazy but we'll save that for another time) after 7 miles you are kinda numb and totally in autopilot.  At least I was and I loved it.

Fast forward through 17 years of not treating my body very kind and here I am today.  I ran a mile... the whole mile.  I saw a sign saying "The end is near" and thought Jesus was coming to spare me, but it was Amy at the last corner letting me know I was close to home.  I'm kidding, but it would have fit.  I didn't even get out of the driveway and my ankle popped and twinged, yes twinged, I don't know how else to describe it.  I have a short driveway, just long enough to fit a supersized truck, not that I have one but there are others around where I live and they do.  Its that long.  Not even a quarter mile into it my left hamstring tightened up and exclaimed "you didn't warm up, you know better than that knucklehead." I was actually quite surprised and pleased my lungs lasted longer than my legs by a quarter mile (do the math, just about halfway home), and it was always the opposite.  Not sure if that is a positive sign of regaining my lung capacity or a sorry state of affairs.  By three quarters of a mile, I couldn't quit, I just kept going.  I'm not talking "Eye of the Tiger" here, I'm talking "Death of a Salesman."  Don't look at the context just go with it... not too many songs or books or movies coming to mind that fit lying in broken mass on the pavement and that was the first I though of.  Work with me here.

I made it though, mostly out of necessity, maybe a smidge of drive and/or motivation.  Crazy thing is I want to do it again.  Next time I'll warm up a bit first.  Its a little weird when hamstrings talk.

Enjoy your day!