Today, I finally ran.
It’s been 15 long days, thanks to a needed rest and the subsequent flu. My friend JZ scared me when I told her that I was going to take my lungs out for a spin.
“You’re going to feel like dying.”
Nah. I’ll be fine.
“Seriously, you’re going to feel like you’ve never run before.”
She was correct.
The anxiety walked between us as I headed to my car. It jumped into the passenger seat and eventually trudged upstairs where I donned my tights and shoes. And then I was off, like a school girl headed to her best friend's sleepover.
First run. Two weeks. Steroids done. Z-pack done. Tamiflu done. Nebulizer put away.
Three miles. Twenty-six minutes. 8:40 pace. Run done. Anxiety put away.
I returned home just as the girls emerged from the bus.
JZ was right.
I felt like I had, indeed, never run before--and in the most rewarding fashion.
“You ran? But you still sound like a crocodile! Let me take your picture.”
And so she did.