I know it hurts to breathe.  It’s not an injury.  Keep going.  Tired doesn’t mean you can stop.  It’s not that far.  It could be worse.  Next time will be easier, but only if you push.

Such are the encouragements I repeat to myself like a chant, as I round the next landmark in the park.  See, I’ve taken up running.  Or something resembling running.  I’m sure I’m an amusing sight, gasping for air like a fish, scowling in concentration.  My face turns red when I run.  I wish it wouldn’t.  I look like I’ve suffered a horrible scalding, or that I’m preparing for internal combustion.

It’s not an enjoyable time of day.  Just after the sun goes down, but it’s still light out.  The lights on the running path are turning on and reflecting in the lake.  The birds are finally getting out of the way and returning from the watery depths from whence they came, now that no one is throwing bread at them.  It’s not too hot, not too cool.  I’d really enjoy it if I was sitting in a chair, reading, or really doing anything but what I do at that time: run.

It’s very difficult to enjoy the sights when my cardiovascular system is staging a coupe.  I go anyway, because I enjoy the feeling afterwards.  Usually it’s getting pretty dark by the time I finish.  The city lights are on and reflect in the water, and the lights on the path make the lake glow.  I can enjoy that kind of thing while I’m stretching and congratulating myself on surviving.  When I can breathe again I get the Big Lung Feeling (TM) that tells me I could climb Everest if I so desired.

It’s hard to stay motivated to put myself through a half hour of torture every other day.  I know there are countless benefits to be had by doing so, but… a half hour.  That’s a long time.  It wouldn’t be so long sitting in a comfy chair playing games.  That’s only 3 rounds of Splinter Cell.  But not when I’m concentrating on the effort required to put one foot in front of the other.

I’m doing better.  One month in and I run a little farther, a little faster, every day.  I don’t need as many walking breaks.  My legs are stronger.  I bet I could kick through a door.  Or something.  Maybe not, but I’ll work on it.

- Jinx

am i alone in this